


Give Up The Ghost

by Hummingbird_3419



Category: Lawless (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 63,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hummingbird_3419/pseuds/Hummingbird_3419
Summary: Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring. |COMPLETE|





	1. Wandering

* * *

 

The sun beat down through the trees relentlessly, even though it was the far side of winter. The sun would beat down from the sky in Washington, but it felt different on Martha’s skin. A change from walking down the city’s streets to walking through the Virginia woods, Martha could feel in her bones that it was good for her health, she needed to feel something good after all she’d been through.

  
The woods were a familiar nature for Martha, but only from her childhood, the sidewalks of the capital soon became familiar territory. Throughout her teenage years, she’d learn the do’s and don’ts of the city, she’d learnt them with her best friends. To get back to the nature of where she was born, it was difficult, but Martha assumed that a path in the woods was safer than the sidewalk of a city.

  
The treks she’d take in the woods everyday happened because she had to move to Franklin County, a place she’d only visited a handful of times during her short life. Her Poppa, her father’s father, owned a decent piece of land, which he had inherited from his own father. Martha could faintly remember the farm animals that had since passed, newer ones taking their place, and learning how to milk a cow. She had no idea that she should’ve known that the knowledge would become useful in time, since she lived at the farm permanently nowadays.

  
Her mother died from the intense wave of Spanish Flu, it took her mother from Martha when she was just eleven. Her father was affected, but did not have the same end as her mother. For nine years after, Martha lived with her father. They were affected, but not damaged by it greatly, her father carried on with his hardware store, and Martha worked a good job as a waitress.

  
The 29th October affected all who lived, whether was positive or the great negative. The effect was so great, Martha lost her father, who was in ruins over his business. Martha felt angry at him, to leave her in such a bad state, after all, she was the one who had to see him after he’d shot himself, but eventually harboured no bad feelings, and ended up feeling extremely guilty with herself.

  
The debts were high, Martha had no money to her own name. It was Ray, her grandfather, who contacted her first, asking how the crash was affecting them. After breaking the news, her Poppa sighed in grief, and said he’d take her in as soon as she was ready.  
It took a few months to get things sorted, and there was a part of Martha that wanted to stay with her friends, but sleeping on their couch was no way to live. She’d lost her job, house, father, there was no call for her to stay in Washington anymore.  
Everything had to go, or had already been taken for repurposing, such as bed frames for kindling. There was only a photo album and her mother’s necklace that was of concern to her person.

  
The first night at her Poppa’s was one that seemed to last forever. There was no sound out of her room, just the faint noise of the cattle in the sheds. It was eerily quiet for her, but she was grateful to have a decent bed for herself, it was the first in four months.  
There was only one book that hadn’t been sold for kindling, Martha managed to keep Dracula, a book her father had owned, so for her, it was a lasting memory of him to have it. The spine had worn down, and some pages were close to falling out, but Martha treasured it dearly.

  
When she started her daily walks, Martha would just take herself. Then when she got comfortable, she risked taking the book with her. Accompanied with her mother’s necklace that hung around her neck, the book remained tight in her hands, it was as if Martha was taking her mother and father with her, through her new life in Franklin County.

  
With every day she walked, her legs would end up taking her further. Her Poppa was making sure she ate well, he saw how sickly she looked when she arrived, and he was keen to provide large portions, then second helpings if Martha could stomach it. Along with the limitless food and exercise that Martha was taking, her health recovered, and not just in her body, but in her mind.

  
Martha was missing her father something fierce, but was not a child. She’d only cry in the privacy of the woods, but the tears came less and less with every day, mostly since she started taking the book with her.

* * *

 

The Virginia wilderness, Martha assumed, was a quiet and barren landscape, just endless rows of trees, with nothing else, and she’d not encountered anyone when out, until one day, while walking beside a lake, the sounds of frustration cut her from her daydreaming.

  
‘Goddamn!’

  
Martha looked over to the source of the sound, and saw a young man, working with what looked like a familiar contraption. He hadn’t seen her yet, and was clearly struggling with the task he was trying to complete.  
‘Hello!?’ Martha said, loud enough so he could hear her with the distance between them both.

  
The man looked up swiftly, shocked to see someone else out so far in the middle of nowhere. The shock got to him, as he tripped backwards onto the ground.

  
Martha ran forward, and asked, ‘Are you alright?’

  
She came to his side, but he was already picking himself up.

  
‘Yes ma’am.’ He replied, brushing the dirt and twigs from his dungarees and jumper. He turned to face the woman who’d startled him.

  
‘Are you hurt?’

  
‘No, ma’am.’

  
The man was avoiding her eye line, and Martha could sense that he was feeling embarrassed. Whether it was from falling over, or from being caught working, she didn’t know. Since the contraption looked familiar, Martha decided to press on with her curiosity.

  
‘What’re you doing out here?’ She asked, eyes flicking from the contraption, then back to him.

  
‘Nothin’, ma’am.’

  
Martha knew that it wasn’t true, as she had seen him working before he even knew of her approaching. He had begun shifting where he stood, clearly ready to make a dash for it, but Martha wanted to keep him before he lost interest in her.

  
‘My name’s Martha, what’s yours?’

  
‘Cricket, ma’am.’

  
‘You don’t need to keep calling me ma’am, like I’m an old lady.’ Martha added a smile to her words, to show that she was being friendly, and Cricket smiled back.

  
‘Can I ask you something, Cricket?’

  
Cricket wasn’t avoiding eye contact anymore, and waiting for Martha to continue talking.

  
‘There’s one of these machines on my Poppa’s land, you know, Ray Lawrence?’

  
Martha saw the change in Cricket’s expression, it was obvious that he was a terrible liar. Eventually, Cricket nodded at her.

  
‘Well, I came across it the other day, but had no idea what it was. I’m guessing you know.’

  
Martha didn’t use an accusing tone, she kept her voice light, and curious, like she was none the wiser. But it was something shady, she knew that much.

  
Cricket was torn, since he knew that he shouldn’t be telling mysterious girls in the woods about the stills, but he figured that she’d already seen him, and she was Ray’s granddaughter, and Ray was a good man.

  
‘I don’t know if I should say.’ Cricket scratched the back of his neck, nervous with the thought of telling Martha.

  
‘That’s exactly what my Poppa said. Well, he actually said ‘it’s none of my damn business’, so at least you weren’t rude to me like he was.’

  
The chuckle that came from Cricket made Martha laugh as well. Cricket put his hands on his waist, and was, again, torn in whether he should say anything or not.

  
‘It sure does have a funny smell, Cricket.’

  
‘Yes ma’am, sorry, Miss Martha. It’s a …’ Cricket paused, Martha waited patiently.

  
‘Have you ever heard of moonshine?’

  
‘Yeah, I have.’

  
‘Well, this hears a still, it makes moonshine.’

  
‘Damn.’

  
After that, Cricket became comfortable with Martha, and ended up explaining the whole process, not missing out a single piece of information. After his long-winded lecture, which Martha was quite happy to listen to, Cricket asked about the book in her hands.

  
‘Oh, it’s called Dracula, have you heard of it?’

  
‘No Miss, I don’t read a lot.’

  
‘It’s the only book I’ve got, I’ve read it about a’hundred times.’

  
Martha noticed that Cricket was looking at the book more so than at her, and a thought crossed her mind.

  
‘Cricket, since you explained the still to me, shall I read you a bit of the book?’

  
The smile that appeared on Cricket’s face made Martha’s heart swell.

  
‘Gee Miss, that’d be real nice of you, but you don’t have to, really.’

  
‘What if I want to?’

  
‘I bet you have other friends to be with …’ Cricket trailed off, moving himself back to the still, acting indifferent.

  
‘Do you know something, Cricket, I haven’t made friends with anyone yet. Sure, I live with my Poppa, but he’s family, so it doesn’t really count.’

  
Martha was being sincere, she did want someone to talk to. There weren’t any young women to make friends with, not like back in Washington, but Cricket was the youngest person she had met in Franklin, and she was determined to make something work with him.

  
‘Please, Cricket, can I read to you?’

  
The soft tones of Martha’s voice affected Cricket, and another smile appeared on his lips.

  
‘I’d like that, Miss, I ain’t ever had anyone read to me before now.’

* * *

 

Hours would pass by when Martha read the book to Cricket, either she did so as he worked in his cabin, or they sat at the kitchen table, or out on his porch, and he was an attentive listener. The text was a little advanced for Cricket, which meant that Martha read slower for him, and every so often he’d ask what a word meant, or for her to repeat a line.

  
Martha was thankful that Cricket was so kind to her, and his friend, Jack was as well. Jack would never hang around for too long at the cabin, but Cricket was happy to introduce Martha to him, almost showing off that he had a pretty girl come and read to him almost every day.

  
With a new friend to spend time with, and with the memories of her father not as painful anymore, Martha felt that Franklin County was becoming more like home, or at least, comfortable to live in.


	2. Cautionary Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

April brought a breeze, awakening the spring air and pushing out the winter chill. A cardigan was needed in the mornings, the early dewy air caused a slight chill, but when she walked, a heat built up on her skin, and the extra layer would usually be removed.

Martha preferred the walks away from her Poppa’s farm, leaving and knowing that she’d be surrounded by the vast, enclosed forest, with Cricket waiting at the end of her journey. Sometimes, she didn’t want to leave, reading to Cricket while he ate his dinner, late into the evening. He had never pushed her out, and was always polite when Martha would make a comment about how late she had stayed, Cricket pretended that he hadn’t noticed the time.

The walks home held a different atmosphere. Martha would be going home to her own dinner, and she’d be hungry from the walk, but she’d have to pick which route she’d take that night.

Ray’s farm extended farm back from the house, with cow sheds and a store nearer the front. Stan, the farm hand that work there daily, would usually be near the buildings at the end of the day, sorting out equipment. That was what Martha was led to believe at first, so she’d take the route that would bring her around the other side, passing the pastures and straight to the house. Martha would walk the extra mile if it meant she wouldn’t have to walk by Stan working in the evenings.

Her Poppa had introduced her to Stan when she first arrived, and had stressed the importance of his work, since her Poppa wasn’t as spritely as he used to be. Martha saw Stan as her Poppa’s crucial asset for making the farm profitable, and Stan knew that she thought that way about him. That led to him being crude whenever Ray wasn’t around to hear, first saying how pretty she was, and that it was nice to not have to look at Ray’s old toffee face. Martha would be polite and smile, but she hated the attention from him, it made her feel uncomfortable, that’s why she took the long way around.

Martha should’ve guessed that her luck wasn’t to be lasting, since she came across Stan working on the fences, replacing the old posts with new ones. He had seen her, there was no chance of turning back, so Martha hugged the book tighter to her chest, and walked on.

She saw that Stan kept looking up at her, then back at his work. He was checking how far away she was, and timing himself to make a comment when she was closer. Martha’s body stayed hunched up and tight as she walked closer to him.

‘Good afternoon, sweetheart. Out wanderin’ again?’

‘Yeah, I was.’ Martha slowed her footsteps down.

Stan was waiting with his body leant against the fence, watching her every move.

‘How do you not end up gettin’ lost?’

Martha shrugged. A smirk spread on Stan’s lips, and his eyes darkened for a moment, Martha braced herself.

‘Have you ever been up the mountains yet? Right to the top?'

Martha shook her head, not breaking eye contact.

‘Hmm, I’ll have to take you there sometime, there’s a beautiful view to see, more beautiful if you’re on top of it I bet.’

Stan’s slow, enunciated words sounded vulgar mixed with his Southern drawl, the hairs on Martha’s neck stood up, and she retreated back a few paces, then broke into a solid walk, not stopping till she got to the back porch of the house. The breath she had been holding had made her faint, so she breathed in and out deeply as she swung open the back door.

‘Hello, Martha.’

Ray was in the kitchen, working away at the counter, preparing dinner.

‘It’s chicken, greens and cornbread tonight. Sound good?’

‘Yeah, Poppa, that’s good.’

Martha left the kitchen and went straight to her room to put her book down, and to take a moment for herself. The only thing she hated about Franklin County was Stan, but she wouldn’t do or say anything since her Poppa relied on him. Instead, Martha would continue to take a planned route back to the house, having to guess which one Stan wouldn’t be at.


	3. Fraying Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

The reading sessions that took place almost every day soon had to stop, as Martha had read _Dracula_ from cover to cover for Cricket.

‘Does this mean you won’t come here no more?’

Martha was shocked that he’d think such a thing, as if the book was the only reason she came to see him. However, it was the only book she owned, until she thought to check what the town had to offer.

Since Martha was usually at Cricket’s, or wandering in the woods, there wasn’t much of a reason, nor was there time, for her to go into town. Instead of walking out of the back door, and avoiding Stan, Martha went through the front door and wandered down the dirt road into town.

The general store was easy enough to find, but Martha didn’t know how hopeful she should feel, not knowing the chances of there being any books. It only looked as if it stocked the main amenities, but Martha pushed open the door anyway, and the bell above the door rang.

The man behind the counter said good morning, to which she said the same back, then began her search for any form of literature available. Even if it ended up being a clothing catalogue, Martha would get it so there was something to read to Cricket. She ended up at the back of the store, where there was a dark corner with a handful of books, tucked away and clearly gathering dust.

Martha picked each one up individually, considering how much she’d think Cricket would like it. There were only five books altogether, but it took Martha at least ten minutes to decide.

The store owner, Harry, was debating on going over and helping the girl, she seemed to be taking too long over his tiny book selection, but Howard Bondurant came in to settle some business, so he stayed behind the counter.

The book that Martha ended up choosing was _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer._ The copy that was in stock was frayed and clearly second hand, but Martha knew that it would’ve been easier for Cricket to understand, and Martha hadn’t read it since she was young, so it would’ve been nice for her to revisit a classic.

Martha took the book from the shelf, after making the others stand up and look presentable, and walked to the counter to pay. She had to wait, there was a man leant over on the counter, and talking to the clerk.

The man leant over the counter was talking quietly to Harry, since he sensed someone behind him. When he looked around, he saw the young woman in the bright blue dress.

‘Hoowee,’ he hollered, catching Martha’s attention, ‘ma’am.’

Martha looked at the man, and he gestured to her with his head, telling her that she could go in front of him in line, but Martha shook her head.

‘It’s alright, sir, I’m no hurry.’

‘Please, it’d be my pleasure to let you go first.’

There was a sincere look on the man’s face, so Martha decided not to argue with him any further. She stepped forward, and handed the book over for the clerk to ring through.

When Martha put the book down, she heard the man beside her let out a chuckle.

‘Not many folks in Franklin queuein’ for a book nowadays.’

‘That’s the first I sold in a few months, I reckon.’ Harry said, punching the buttons on the cash register.

‘I didn’t even know there were books in the store.’ The man said.

‘There’s not a large collection.’ Martha said, she wanted to say something, so she didn’t feel rude in front of the men who were only joking with her.

‘Wouldn’t you prefer a girly book, there must be somethin’ back there for ya.’ The clerk said, looking over the title of the book with judging eyes.

‘Well, it’s not for me, just for a friend. I know he’d like it.’

A scoff came from the man beside Martha, and she turned to him. He was leaning on his forearm, closer to her eye line, and there was a smirk on his face.

‘Ma’am …’ He trailed off, asking for her to tell him her name.

‘Martha Lawrence.’

The name rang a bell for Howard, Lawrence was the name of one of their customers, they used his land for a still, but he didn’t let on that he knew her family.

‘Martha, I’ll let you in on a little hint. There’s no man in Franklin County that’ll be impressed by a goddamn book.’

Martha raised an eyebrow, thinking that the man was challenging her, and she was up for it that time.

‘I think you’ll find, Mr …’

‘My name’s Howard.’

‘Well, I think you’ll find Howard, that there is at least one man in Franklin County that will be.’

Martha was lucky that Howard was in a good mood. They remained steady eye contact, and he could tell that Martha was serious. Harry was watching behind the counter, flicking his eyes between them both, thinking how crazy the girl was to talk to Howard Bondurant like that.

‘Alright, I believe you.’

The clerk sighed, and Martha was happy to have won the little game.

‘That’ll be ten cents, Miss.’

Howard, who had returned to his full height, reached into his pocket to search for change.

‘Since you’re so cocksure about this damn book, I’ll pay for it.’

Martha already had her purse out. ‘No, that isn’t necessary.’

‘It’d be my pleasure, Martha. I’m just thinkin’ about the education of this man you speak of.’

Martha is grateful for the gentlemanly act, and breathed out a laugh at his comment.

‘That’s kind of you. Thank you.’

Howard nodded his head, and went back to talking about business with Harry.

Martha was going to leave the store, but realised that she still had money in her purse, so went back to the small corner of the store to see about buying another book. If Martha had enough money for herself, she would’ve bought the beaten-up copy of _Treasure Island_ as well, so went straight for that one. She had heard the door close behind her, and when she turned, Howard was no longer in the store.

‘You wanna be careful of Howard.’ Harry said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘He’s a Bondurant.’

Martha assumed he thought that meant something to her, but she had no clue what it was supposed to mean. The name was in the back of her mind, it sounded familiar, but she wasn’t too sure.

Harry noticed the confused look on her face, and thought it was his duty to make sure she knew of the men in question.

‘You’ll learn who they are soon enough, but be careful. Especially of Howard.’

‘Why, what’s wrong with him?’

‘It’s not for a young lady to know about, particularly one as put together as yourself. All the Bondurant’s are trouble, you just remember that.’

Martha took the book from the counter, place her small leather purse in her pocket and said, ‘Yes, sir,’ then left the store.

Bondurant … the name did ring a bell for Martha. As she walked back to the house, both books clutched to her chest, she racked her mind for the name.

It came to her, finally, Bondurant was the friend of Cricket’s, Jack. Martha recalled the word that Harry had used, ‘trouble’, and he spoke about the name ‘Bondurant’ as if it was something to be feared, but Jack couldn’t have been nicer to Martha. He liked her reading to Cricket, he was good-humoured, although he was a little shady about her knowing about their stills dotted around Franklin County, but after she swore she wouldn’t tell a soul, and that her grandfather had one, he’d been so civil towards her; there couldn’t have been a bad bone in his body, apart from the one where his family dealt with illegal moonshine.

Then there was Howard, the second Bondurant brother she had just met, and she knew there were three altogether. Howard seemed more playful, Martha smirked at how forward she spoken to him, finding confidence in her words, just over a damned book. But he seemed to take it in his stride, so there was no need to be careful of him, like Harry had said. It was confusing to think about, since the clerk would’ve known things she didn’t, and Martha guessed that she shouldn’t always trust the first impressions of people.

 

 

 


	4. Bloodied Gloves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

A curiosity about the Bondurant’s grew, but when Martha was in the presence of Jack, she’d be too shy to ask the questions that brewed in her mind. When Martha saw Jack for the first time since the day at the general store, the word ‘trouble’ didn’t come to mind once. Cocky, sure, but not the kind of trouble that Harry was insinuating. 

Martha almost came to her wits end, and ended up asking her Poppa about them.

‘How’d’ya know?’ He slurred, surprised that she was asking, but he guessed that she was bound to end up hearing the town gossip, which the Bondurant’s were a constant part of, especially with the new District Attorney and Special Deputy arriving. 

‘I just heard, when I was in town.’

Martha was not, in her right mind, going to tell her Poppa that she was friendly with Jack Bondurant, she hadn’t even told him about her trips to Cricket’s cabin, thinking he’d stop her from going. 

‘The Bondurant’s, they do business.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘None of your business, I don’t want you askin’ or worryin’ about what those folks get up to.’

Her Poppa was quick to stop the subject matter, and Martha was still without answers. Everyone seemed to know something about the Bondurant’s, but had no intention of letting her in on the secrets, which was annoying. She ended up thinking to ask Cricket, even though he was still acting as if she was none the wiser about the stills, and acted shocked when she asked how the work was going. 

They had read Dracula within a week, and had already begun The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. As Martha made her way to Cricket’s cabin, she opened the book to where the bit of string was placed, they were up to chapter ten. Martha read aloud as she walked, going over the first paragraph.

‘The two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed.’ Martha stopped there, since she tripped over a log she didn’t see, and almost dropped the book. 

As Martha made her way through the woods, knowing the route like the palm of her hand, a commotion was heard. At first, she assumed it was Cricket shouting out, or Jack was there, and they were joking around, but as she got closer, the sounds weren’t of a happy nature. 

There was screaming, an ugly kind of screaming, a crying and pleading that made Martha flinch and think about turning around to run. But then a thought crossed her mind, what if the screaming was coming from Cricket, and he’d hurt himself?

She came to the edge of the clearing, and saw a man towering over someone passed out on the floor. Martha couldn’t tell if the man on the floor was Cricket, and before she could walk further to find out, the man standing looked over at her, and even with the distance between them, Martha could tell that he had fury in his eyes.

‘Who are you!?’ He shouted. Martha began retreating, knowing that the situation she was in was dangerous.

‘Hey, Miss!’

Martha looked over to the porch, there were officers calling to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man beginning to get closer to her, striding quickly to where she was standing.

‘Hey!’

Martha turned, and dashed for it, her plimsolls working hard enough to gather speed to get away from the horrifying scene. She ran, and ran, ran till there was no breath in her throat, and she had to stop to cough and heave, spitting out phlegm that had built in her throat.

Gripping onto a tree, one close to the main dirt road, Martha had to process her thoughts. The police were there, watching the man beat up … was it Cricket? Or Jack? In the hurry to escape, Martha didn’t even check, and that churned her stomach something awful. Was the poor, whoever he was, still alive? It was a disturbing thought to possess. 

Martha couldn’t go to police; the police were already there. From that knowledge, Martha deduced that something shady had gone on, since she was led to believe that people didn’t get beaten up with police watching so calmly, that wasn’t how things were done. Surely, the officers there would’ve intervened, so Martha chose not to go to the police station. Instead, she found herself going to the hospital, the one up towards the mountains.

After the mad dash, and then the trek to the hospital, Martha was in a sweat, beads of it were running down her face, and her dress was stuck to her back. She tried to think of a speech to say to anyone she would’ve found there, but nothing stuck. When she climbed the porch to the hospital, there wasn’t anything concrete in her mind, but kept going in.

The inside was a little colder than the outside, and she felt her back run cold, all the spots of her body that were warm turned cool, and goose bumps formed on her arms. Martha hated to think what her hair looked like, the sweat that had been brought on must’ve made her look a state. The nurse at the reception didn’t hide any surprise in her expression at her flustered appearance, she had pink cheeks and fly-away hair.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Her eyes were wide, trying to understand why the young woman looked so disturbed.

‘There was a man, who was beat up.’

The words sounded stupid, Martha realised this once she had spoken them, and creased her brows in frustration. 

‘Yes?’

The nurse was waiting patiently, and Martha tried again.

‘A man, his face was all cut up and beat, I’m guessing he hasn’t come in?’

‘We’ve had no new patients.’

‘Well,’ Martha was thinking everything up on the spot, ‘I don’t know if he’s on his way, but it was in a cabin, about three miles west. He may come in, but I thought you should know.’

Before the nurse could say anything in reply, Martha huffed and turned to leave. She felt stupid, what would’ve the nurse thought? The nurse would’ve thought she was a crazy for talking like that, but there was a part of Martha that felt a little better. She couldn’t have helped at the scene, but the hospital knew about the injured man, and surely, Martha thought, that was at least something.

Martha thought about the injured man. If it was Cricket, she would hate herself for not helping at his house. He had a bad leg, it left him at a disadvantage, Martha knew that, so to be beaten so badly wasn’t right. 

Martha couldn’t get the thought of the man pacing towards her out of her mind. He looked furious, terrifying, and he was aiming himself at her. Martha shivered at the thought. The gloves he was wearing, Martha remembered, had the blood of man on them, possibly Cricket’s blood, and Martha felt sick at the thought of them near her, being touched by them. The man was someone to keep note of, and, Martha told herself, if seen in town, she’d run like her ass was on fire.


	5. Mr Bondurant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

Her Poppa had Martha cleaning the house from top to bottom the day after she wandered onto the police at Cricket’s cabin. She was annoyed at first, but then thought about it properly, there was a chance that her Poppa had heard about the attack through people in town, and he didn’t want her wandering the wood for good reason. That was not something he had let on, but Martha knew that her Poppa wasn’t stupid. The only respite that Martha was allowed was to walk to perimeter of the pastures, and her Poppa made her take note of any rotten fence posts while she was at it. The sun was setting, the sky turned a whirl of pinks and oranges, and the breeze calmed her. There wasn’t much of a chance for Martha to experience a sunset back in Washington, she’d always be working late, so she liked to wait until all the stars were out until she headed back, savouring the beauty in the sky.

Stan had already gone home, he had left early that day, so Martha walked without the worry of coming across him. It wasn’t until she reached the house and went through the back door that she heard her Poppa talking, and there was a man talking back. At first, Martha thought it was Stan, her heart skipped a beat, and she began to tip toe to the stairs, keeping her back to the open front room door.

‘Martha?’ her Poppa called out, and Martha stopped, turned, and walked towards the threshold, annoyed that she had been caught.

The two men stood up, and it was a relief for Martha to see that the man wasn’t Stan, but someone else, someone she didn’t know.

‘This here’s Forrest Bondurant. He has some questions for you.’

Bondurant. The man was the third brother. Martha looked over to the man, who had doffed his hat to her, and then put his hands in his cardigan pockets. There was no expression on his face, his demeanour was blank, but at the thought of being persecuted with questions, Martha thought Forrest looked scary.

Forrest looked Martha up and down quickly, finally focusing on how worried her face looked, and that she was pawing at her dress, not knowing what to do with her hands. Her eyes flicked back from him and Ray, clearly overwhelmed.

‘No need to look so frightened, Martha.’ Ray chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. Forrest cleared his throat, and Martha returned her gaze to Forrest, waiting for him to finally speak.

‘Miss Lawrence, I believe you came across … a disturbing scene the other day.’ He began, trying to use delicate words in the presence of a young woman.

‘I didn’t mean to see it, I was just there to see someone, and the man was … uh …’ Martha trailed off. Her words were hurried at first, desperate to make Forrest understand that she was innocent, not that he was accusing her in the first place. But then she thought of the police that were there, and she knew that Forrest was not an officer, she didn’t know whether she should be telling anyone the information.

‘I know what he did. The man who was attacked was my brother. I just thought I’d come by to see if you were alright, it was not something that should’ve been witnessed by a lady.’ Forrest’s drawl was calm, he was only trying to put Martha at ease in her clearly flustered state. He saw a small smile appear on Martha’s lips, the motion caught him off guard for a moment, and he had to tear his gaze from them.

‘I’m alright, Mr Bondurant.’ Martha’s eyes remained wide, but not from fear anymore, but in fascination. Martha didn’t know what she was expecting from the third Bondurant brother, but she wouldn’t have assumed that he was going to care for her feelings, let alone go out of his way to come to the house and check for himself. It was a nice and unexpected surprise.

Forrest felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle when Martha had addressed him, the name ‘Mr Bondurant’ sounded as if he’d never been called that before. For him, strangely, a moment passed where he felt as if it was only him and Martha in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ray, it shook him out of his wandering train of thought, and he carried on with his questions.

‘And you saw the man who was attacking my brother?’

‘Yeah,’ Martha lowered her gaze, and gripped her dress again, recalling the horrible memories, ‘he was wearing a nice suit, and had slicked back hair, and gloves on. And he spoke like he wasn’t from around here, but I’m not sure where. I didn’t get his name, since I left after he … well I ran.’

Forrest nodded his head, and ran his gaze to the floor, then back up when Ray addressed him.

‘Is it the man you were talkin’ about, Forrest?’ He asked.

Forrest nodded, and consequently said goodbye to Ray and Martha, as he’d gotten the information he needed. Martha stood out of his way when he passed, and he managed to catch the perfume she was wearing, but couldn’t decipher what it was. Forrest paced to the car, but heard a call from behind him, so he turned around.

‘Mr Bondurant!’

It was Martha, she had flung open the front door, and jumped the last two steps off the porch to catch up with Forrest before he drove away. She jogged up to his side.

‘Yes, Miss Lawrence?’

‘I have to ask, is your brother alright? He got beat up real bad, I know, is he alive?’

Forrest could tell that Martha’s question was serious, but he wanted to laugh at how worried she was.

‘Jack is fine, just bruised is all.’ Forrest’s eyes were reassuring, and he let the smallest of smiles tug at the corner of his lips. Martha sighed and seemed relieved at his words.

‘Actually, when they got to the hospital, the nurse already knew of his arrival, you know why?'

It was a long shot for Forrest to assume that it was Martha, but he had his suspicions. He saw the way Martha’s demeanour changed, and she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, out of nerves, he assumed.

‘Well, the thing is, Mr Bondurant, I think the man who beat him was police, there were officers with him when he attacked Jack. I thought I should go to someone, but since the police were there, I guessed I should go to the hospital, so at least someone knew.’

The way Martha told Forrest, he could tell she was treating it like a secret, like no one else knew that the police were involved with Rakes.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grunted. He didn’t want to say outright that he was impressed that she had the gall or care to go to the hospital, especially over someone she may not have known.

‘But Jack’s alright now, that’s the good thing.’ Martha smiled.

Forrest nodded, confirming this, then saw her expression change, like a thought was passing through her mind. She zoned out for a moment, then refocused her eyes on him, and said her goodbyes again.

Forrest just had his hand on the door handle of his car, then heard Ray calling his name from behind him. He turned again, wondering if he’d ever be able to get home that night.

‘Martha, you go inside now.’ Ray said to Martha as he passed her.

‘I’m sorry for keepin’ you like this, Forrest, but I gotta question.’

‘Mmhm?’ Forrest glanced his eyes over to Martha’s retreating body, seeing her in the porch light, then she disappeared inside.

‘My Martha, she’s wonderin’ the forest almost every day, shit, that’s how she saw young Jack get beat, and I don’t like it. But she can’t be hangin’ around the house all day. I saw that you had a vacancy for work at the Station, could you let her at least interview for it? I’d be grateful, and I’m sure she’d be happy for the work.’

Forrest didn’t take a moment to think, he gave a grunt and a nod, then moved to get into the car. Ray was thankful, and said his second lot of goodbye’s that night.

As Forrest drove the two miles back to the Station, he thought differently about his answer. At first, in a brief thought, he wanted to say no to Ray, he didn’t even know how old Martha was. But then the thought of her wandering the forest came to the front of his mind, and he didn’t like that. With Rakes searching everywhere for stills, it wasn’t safe for her to be on her own, in a place where no one would hear her if she came across him, the thought sent chills down his spine. To have Martha at the Station was a better option in the end.

Forrest then recalled the conversation he’d had with Ray that day. When Forrest sat down with Ray, he told him about the attack, and a few of the finer details about Charlie Rakes. Ray was confused as to why Martha would’ve been involved, but once he said that Martha was there that day, confirmed by Cricket, who had seen her approach from the window, Ray was shocked. Pieces started fitting together for Ray, and he realised where Martha had been going all that time. Forrest wasn’t going to get involved in matters that didn’t concern him, but once Martha appeared at the door to the front room, he wasn’t expecting a young woman, but rather a teenager. Martha was dressed too fine to be living on the farm, and, Forrest noticed, that her hair was tucked in a braid behind her, but the trivial aspects shouldn’t have bothered him. However, the freckles on her face then caught his attention, how they were covering her nose, cheeks and forehead, and then it dawned on Forrest that he actually liked freckles. Young Martha had unwittingly caught Forrest’s attention.


	6. Apple Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

The thoughts of the third Bondurant brother plagued Martha’s mind that night, Ray had told her to go to the Station for an interview the next day. Martha knew that the job market in Franklin County was poor, and she couldn’t wait to start working again, but it depended on the interview, and it would’ve been Forrest interviewing her. The man was tough and quiet, Martha knew she’d rather have Jack interviewing her for the job, but she guessed that Forrest was the one in charge.

When Martha was talking to Forrest the night before, and knew, finally, that Jack was alright after being beaten up by the man, an idea formed in her mind. In the early morning of the day of the interview, Martha had her Poppa drive her into town to the general store, and she bought the ingredients for an apple pie. When her Poppa asked her what for, he was hopeful that it was going to be for him. That made Martha feel bad, so bought double the amount to bake one for him, and one for Jack, who she was hoping to see that day when she went for her interview.

Getting back to baking was like getting back on a bike after time away, Martha used the recipe that her mother had taught her when she was young, it was perfect back when she first learned it, Martha knew that the recipe was fool-proof. There were times when Martha was allowed to chip in on the baking duties at her old job in the city, usually when they were a man down, or it was a quiet day, so it wasn’t a foreign concept for Martha, she knew her way around a kitchen well enough. She even took her time to decorate the top of the pies with extra pastry, making swirls and leaves, just to make them look extra special.

By ten in the morning, both pies were baked, the tops were just the right shade of brown, and the smell was incredible. There was the aroma of the baked apples and fresh pastry, but also the hint of cinnamon that she’d added. Martha prepared Jack’s pie by placing it in a basket, and covering it with a cloth so it wouldn’t spoil on her way to the Station.

Martha heard her Poppa calling out to Stan, saying that there was fresh pie to be had, so she took that as her cue to leave. Her Poppa wished her luck, and as Stan opened the back door, Martha was out of the front, speeding away from house.

Her Poppa had told her the way, and even offered to drive her, but Martha insisted that she walk. It was only two miles, Martha guessed that she’d done far more out in the woods, especially in the early days when she got lost a fair few times.

Martha had to keep swapping the basket to each arm after a while, the weight was digging into her skin, and the midmorning heat wasn’t helping either. Soon enough, to her relief, the Station came into view. No one was out front, and there were hardly any cars around, and for a moment, Martha thought that it was closed. However, when she got closer, she heard a few shouts and hollering’s coming from inside.

When Martha walked in, she looked over to the large counter on the left, and saw Jack behind it. He had looked up to see who had walked it, and Martha finally saw the damage left on his face.

‘Mornin’ Miss Lawrence.’ He greeted.

‘Jack! Are you well?’ Martha’s brows creased, and her words were exasperated, the injuries looked awful. She made her way over to the counter, he eyes running over every inch of harm on his face.

‘I’m well, just looks bad is all.’ Jack was clearly downplaying his pain, since it looked very bad, but Martha wasn’t going to fawn over him anymore, thinking he wouldn’t like it.

‘I have something for you.’ Martha said, and took the basket from her arm and placed it in front of him on the counter. Jack watched surprised, and Martha removed the cloth to reveal the fresh pie.

‘I hope you like apple, I thought that was the best one to make, since everyone likes apple pie.’

‘For me?’ Jack’s eyes were wide. He didn’t expect a pie, of all things.

‘Yeah, I always think you feel a little better after pie.’ Martha smiled.

‘Thank you, Martha, that’s awful kind of you.’ Jack’s voice was quiet, a little embarrassed from the gift, but thankful all the same.

‘I baked a big one, so you could share, but I guess you could keep it to yourself.’

Martha then looked to the side, to the only customer in the Station, and then back at Howard, who was placed at a table, keeping his eyes on the exchange between his brother and the girl, he didn’t recall who she was, even though they’d met a couple of days prior.

‘You’d better hide it though, I think people are looking.’ Martha teased.

Jack let out a laugh, and said thank you once again.

‘Is Mr Bondurant here? I have an interview with him.’

Jack took a second to think who Mr Bondurant was, then it clicked.

‘Yeah, in his study, excuse me.’

Martha waited by the counter as Jack moved from behind the bar and across the floor to the door of the study. He gave it a knock, and poked his head through. Jack looked back to Martha, and beckoned for her to come over. He held the door out for her, and Martha walked in.

Forrest stood up from his desk, and nodded at her as a greeting. Whatever he was doing was put to the side, the books and papers were tidied away quickly.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Bondurant.’

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grunted. ‘Take a seat.’

Martha did as she was told, and didn’t waste any time in starting the interview.

‘When I lived in Washington, I worked at a café for almost two years, so I know how to talk and serve customers, and cook food. In fact, I made a pie for Jack, you could try that and see what you think.’

Forrest let her speak first, even though he had something to say. A part of him thought that she had planned that on her way over, it seemed rehearsed. He nodded, then cleared his throat.

‘Miss Lawrence, there’s a certain -’

‘Mr Bondurant,’ Martha interrupted, ’if you’re worried about a certain … customer, then you needn’t. I worked in the city, and there’s all kinds of folks that you become used to. Even the more … uh … handsy ones, I’ve learned to handle myself.’

Forrest didn’t like being interrupted by anyone, but when ‘Mr Bondurant’ fell from Martha’s lips, it shut him up. There was no way he’d end up angry at her if she kept saying his name like that.

‘Mr Bondurant.’

There it was again, keeping Forrest quiet.

‘I need a job to get out of the house. I love my Poppa, but it does me no good sitting around and not earning my keep.’

‘Mmhm.’

Forrest mulled over his thoughts for a moment, and studied Martha’s hopeful looks. She was waiting for him to give his approval, or turn her down, that power lay with him.

‘What kind of customers did you have to deal with in Washington?’

‘Oh, all kinds. The city has everybody, and I dealt with them all.’

‘Mmhm.’

Martha couldn’t help but think that Forrest’s grunts were getting on her nerves. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered to say words, and the grunt was just so that people knew he was listening. It was hardly a form of communication.

‘We’ll have you on a trial basis for a couple days, see how you work.’

A grin appeared on Martha’s lips, it took Forrest’s breath away. If saying she could work made her smile like that, he’d have to think of what else he could tell her. That smile made his heart melt.

‘Mr Bondurant, sir, thank you so much, and you won’t regret this, you have my word.’

Martha stood up and held her hand out for Forrest to shake, to seal the deal. Forrest looked down to her hand, and reached his hand out. At first, it was out of politeness and formality, then, when Forrest finally held Martha’s soft hand, it was out of the want to touch her. Martha was formal in her handshake, but Forrest ended up not wanting to stop.

When her hand slipped from his, he cleared his throat again.

‘Have Jack show you the ropes.’

‘Yes, Mr Bondurant.’

Forrest didn’t watch Martha leave his study, and sat back down with his work in front of him, but he didn’t get back to it straight away. He stared at his hand, which was leant on the desk, and clenched it a few times, as if to see if it mobility. It would’ve been stupid to think that Martha could’ve paralysed his hand, but it certainly felt different.


	7. Honey Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

When Martha was working out on the floor, Forrest often found himself looking out of the cubby to her, just so he could watch her. For the customers, seeing Forrest looking out of his cubby, or leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, was just him looking over what was his, and making sure that no trouble occurred. That would often be the case, but most of the time it was to watch Martha.

She had found her feet, and the trial week was just a formality, she knew she was good enough to work for Forrest, and he knew that too. When Forrest spent moments watching Martha focused on her work, he saw her particular mannerisms. She’d keep a pencil behind her ear, strands of hair twirling around it, and when she’d put blackberry jam out on the breakfast orders, she always put it to her nose to smell, she did it without thinking. Forrest found out that she didn’t drink coffee, nor did she smoke, but was careful when cleaning up the ash trays, and wiping away the rings that the coffee mugs left. During hot spells, mostly midday and early afternoon, her cheeks would flush red with the heat from the air, and also from the food she was cooking, and Forrest thought that it made her look a real peach, flustered but focused. It was too much of a trivial thought though, and he would regret it as soon as he thought it.

Forrest knew that Martha wasn’t the type to be able to protect herself against a dodgy customer, even after all she had said that she could when she worked back in the city. It wasn’t something he wanted to do at first, but he needed peace of mind knowing that she had something in her advantage. He wasn’t going to give her a knuckle duster, he guessed that she may not even know what it was if he presented her with one. In the end, Forrest chose to give her a small revolver, something she could tuck away in her apron. It was mainly for his reassurance than Martha’s.

It was the end of her second day, and Martha was cleaning the surfaces down, and tucking away chairs under the table. It wasn’t too late, but Martha was tired from the day’s work. Waitressing all day was not the same as walking in the woods, not only were her legs moving, but her arms and mind wouldn’t stop all day, and although it was taking its toll, Martha didn’t complain. She knew that she was lucky to have job, complaining wasn’t her style.

It was just Jack and Forrest in the Station, Howard had gone off with his friend, Danny, so things were quiet, and Martha could easily hear the sound of Forrest groaning as he got up from his chair to come out onto the main floor.

‘Uh … Martha.’ Forrest spoke. He didn’t bother stepping out of the door fully, and when Martha looked over, he beckoned for her to come into the office. Martha did what she was told, and tucked the cleaning rag in her apron. Forrest was placed on his desk, so Martha took the wooden chair beside it.

‘Is everything alright, Mr Bondurant?’

‘Yeah, I’ve been thinking, there’s something you need. For my peace of mind and yours, I suspect.’ Forrest produced the small revolver from the drawer in his desk, and saw the way that Martha’s face changed.

‘Oh, uh … Forrest, I don’t need … one of those.’

It was clear that Martha was not best pleased by the presence of a gun, but that didn’t stop him from carrying on.

‘Now look here, Martha, there will be times when nor me or Howard will be around, not even Jack sometimes, so I need to know that you have some sort of protection for yourself.’

‘Are people in Franklin County that bad?’

Forrest breathed out a laugh, he knew the very worst of them. ‘I’m assuming you’ve never used one before?’

‘No, sir, I haven’t.’

‘That’s alright, show you.’ Forrest beckoned for her to stand up with him. He opened the revolver and took out the bullets inside, placed them on the desk, then snapped it shut. He gave her a look before he handed it over, letting her take the grip, with him holding the barrel. He noticed that she didn’t suit holding a gun, for some people it acted as an extension of the hand, but for Martha, it wasn’t right.

‘Now, when you have bullets in there, you cock the hammer.’ Forrest instructed. Martha looked down to the gun, and had no idea what he was talking about.

‘Here.’ Forrest came to her left side, and reached over with his right hand to bring her arm up, ‘this is you aiming, and you cock the hammer.’

With Forrest’s thumb on Martha’s, he put pressure down, and cocked the hammer. Then a memory passed his thoughts, the perfume that he’d noticed the day he’d met Martha came to his mind, it was the scent of honey, the sweet stuff invaded his senses, and a sweat broke out on his brow. Martha was waiting for the next set of instructions, her back brushing against his chest, her hand in his, Forrest didn’t think he’d be so intimate with Martha, and he was beside himself.

‘Once the hammer’s back,’ Forrest’s voice croaked, his mouth and throat had run dry, the honey was so sweet in his mind, but he couldn’t lose focus, ‘you aim at your target, and pull the trigger.’

Forrest pulled away at once, his heart was beating like a kettle drum, and the heat he still felt from Martha’s body wasn’t helping.

Martha lowered the gun, and turned to place it on the desk, next to the bullets.

‘Thank you, Mr Bondurant, but you don’t expect me to actually use it, do you?’

Forrest looked at the expression on Martha’s face, and hoped that she wouldn’t get trigger fever, not for her own sake.

‘Martha, if you have a two-hundred-pound man in here, with his eyes set on you, what would you do?’

‘I don’t follow.’

Forrest sighed, and he continued. ‘That man wants to put his hands around your throat so you can’t scream, and that gun will be the only thing that will save you from him. Do you understand?’

Forrest didn’t want to scare her, but he had to get his point across. Martha swallowed thickly at the thought, and looked down to the gun.

‘And, what would happen after the triggers pulled?’

Forrest thought that her voice was as silky as honey, sweet and almost sickly, it was a trivial thought he let himself indulge in for a second.

‘I’ll deal with it, there would be no blame.’ Forrest had dealt with dead bodies before, another one wasn’t going to bother him.

‘Alright.’ Martha gave in, and Forrest put the bullets back into the cylinder, made sure the safety was on, and gestured for her to put it in her apron, which she did.

‘Thank you, Mr Bondurant.’

The name caught him off guard, and Forrest decided to call her out on it.

‘Umm,’ he grumbled, catching Martha’s attention, ‘don’t be calling me Mr any more, or sir.’

‘Oh.’

Forrest thought that Martha almost looked offended by the comment, so tried to reassure her.

‘Mr Bondurant’s too formal, Forrest will do.’

Martha smiled, ‘If that’s what you wish, Forrest.’

Martha left the study, and carried on closing down the Station. Jack was there to drive her home, which was to become a regular thing. Forrest didn’t mind Martha walking to the Station in the morning, and she had insisted on it anyway, but he was not comfortable in letting her walk home in the dark, but wouldn’t put Ray out of his way by making him come get her. It was Jack who had offered the night before, so Martha assumed that he was the one to always take her home. It was barely a ten-minute journey, so Jack didn’t mind.

He’d usually be casual in his conversation, and that night, he knew that Forrest was going to give her a gun, so decided to bring it up.

‘So, what d’ya think, your own gun?’ He smiled.

‘It’s strange to have, I’ve never used one before.’

‘Yeah, well now you can go and shoot folks that get too familiar, when me and my brothers aren’t around.’

Jack was fine in talking about guns and shooting people, but he could tell that Martha was a little put off by the thought of it.

‘No need to look so worried about it, you pull that the trigger the first time, you may not be able to stop. It gets to ya’ like that.’

Jack thought that his words were acting as a comfort to Martha, but they made her feel sick. The only time that Martha had been in the presence of a gun was when she found one lying next to her father’s cold, dead body, after he had shot himself in the head. The mess and stench never left her memories, and the thought then could’ve made her throw up. The fact that a gun made that mess, and with someone the other end willing to pull the trigger, Martha had no mind in bothering with the things, but now there was one in her purse, sitting there, it was almost taunting her.

* * *

 

Martha didn’t let her Poppa know that Forrest gave her a gun. She couldn’t stop Forrest from telling him if he decided to, but till then, Martha kept it tucked away in her purse. There were thoughts that passed her mind however, about using it on Stan. Well, she wouldn’t use it, Martha thought, but surely, he’d be scared by her pulling the revolver out and threatening him with it. Martha shook her head at those thoughts, the person she was in Washington wouldn’t have given one thought about using guns on people.

A regular timetable now ruled Martha’s life, she’d get up and ready herself for her shift at the Station, which started at nine. The walk lasted forty minutes, and the morning air would be enough to wake her up during her journey. Her shift at the Station usually lasted all day, the latest they’d shut was around ten, and she’d be driven home by Jack. It was a routine that pleased Martha, there was finally some structure in her life. The only thing she did miss was reading, and Cricket eventually missed the days shared together as well.

Since there was a garage at the Station, Cricket would often spend some time there. He’d not said anything beforehand about Martha working at the Station, but one day it got to him, and he was terrible at lying.

Martha saw how sad his face looked when he came in for lunch one day, he placed himself at the counter and waited for Martha to approach him. There was only one other customer on the floor, along with Howard and Jack, who sat at the counter as well.

‘Everything alright, Cricket?’ Martha said, taking the pencil from behind her ear, readying her pad to write down his order.

Cricket didn’t answer straight away, he was hunched over with his arms folded in, looking down at the counter. ‘Do you like workin’ here, Miss Martha?’

Martha had tried to get Cricket to call him by her first name only, but it was his habit to call her Miss, so she didn’t push it in the end.

‘Yeah, Cricket, I like it here.’

Martha was confused, watching Cricket continue to stare at the counter. She looked over to Jack, who was just as confused as he was, and he shrugged at her.

‘Is there something on your mind?’ Martha’s voice was quieter that time, leaning in more, to block of Jack and Howard from listening in. They were both looking over with interest, waiting for Cricket to reveal his thoughts.

‘Well, it’s just … you don’t read to me anymore.’ Cricket admitted. He looked up to make eye contact with Martha, finally, and her heart tugged at how blue he looked, clearly bothered from missing the days they used to spend together.

‘Oh, Cricket, the hours I work are long, I can’t make the time anymore.’ Martha hated saying those words, but they were the truth. The look on Cricket’s face made her feel worse.

‘I know, I just miss it.’

A thought passed quickly in Martha’s mind.

‘How about,’ she started, and Cricket raised his head to listen, ‘when you work here, we take our lunch together, and we read then. Like old times, when we sat and ate on your porch, but only for the lunch break.’

The smile that appeared on Cricket’s face saved Martha’s sinking heart, and he was so thrilled at the idea.

‘You’re gunna read together?’ Howard said, chipping in his five cents on the matter. The way he said it sounding slightly condescending, and Martha wasn’t going to stand for it.

‘If you recall, Howard,’ Martha turned and took a few steps over to him, ’we met in the store, and I bought a book, well, you paid for it.’

‘And it was for Cricket?’ Howard asked, surprise taking him, it was a good surprise.

‘That’s right, I told you there was one man in Franklin County who wanted to read.’

‘Well shit, and how was the book, Cricket?’ Howard leaned his head forward to look at him, it was a genuine question.

‘Well, we didn’t get to finish it. Maybe we’ll start it again.’

‘We could, but I did get another book when I was out, and it’s about pirates.’

The look that passed on Cricket’s face amused Martha, Jack and Howard, the mention of pirates perked up his interests, and he changed his mind.

‘Oh, well … uh, perhaps we won’t start it again, we’ll finish Tom Sawyer and start the new one?’ Cricket wanted Martha’s approval on the matter, and she smiled in response.

‘Anything you want, Cricket.’

* * *

 

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was finished within a few days. Jack would happily take over the counter duties and let them read on the porch, or Martha would go out into the garage and read while Cricket worked. Since Cricket wasn’t there every day, Martha guessed that Forrest let her read for longer than her lunch break lasted, not wanting to interrupt her.

Just over a week had passed, and Martha found her stride once again. By working at the Station, and still managing to read to Cricket, she felt that she had regained her purpose in life.

The time came when there were no Bondurant’s around at the Station, and Forrest had to double check that she knew how to use her gun. They would only be gone for an hour, Forrest informed, so Martha assumed that no trouble would be able to come in that short space of time.

Cricket was out in the garage, so she wasn’t completely alone, and the afternoon wasn’t busy by any means, Martha managed to hold the fort down, the weight of the gun in her apron didn’t leave her mind, however. If she leant too close to the counter, she would hear it knock, every time that happened a cold sweat ran down her back. Whilst cleaning some plates in the corner sink, the chorus of scraping chairs caught Martha’s attention, and when she turned around to see what was happening, the custom she was tending to all paid their bills and left the Station. It was a bizarre move, some of the people hadn’t even finished their plates, nor drank their coffee, but when the door opened on the empty room, Martha understood why.

It was the man who’d been at Cricket’s cabin. A chill ran down Martha’s spine, she’d told herself to be cautious of him, but there was no chance of running at that moment. Martha watched as the man straightened out his blazer lapels, and moved forward to sit at the counter.

‘Excuse me, Miss?’

Martha sighed, and prepared herself. As she walked over to stand in front of him, she saw movement by the door. It was Cricket, he’d noticed the customers pouring out all at once, so had come to see for himself. At the sight of the man, Cricket’s mouth dropped. He nodded to Martha from behind the mesh door, then left quickly.

‘Miss?’ The man had to get her attention, since she’d been staring at Cricket. ‘I’d like a cup of coffee, please.’

Martha did as she was told, and turned to grab a mug from the shelf behind her. The man was staring at her intensely when she turned back, but she avoided his gaze. Not a second had passed when she put the mug in front of him when he tutted at her.

‘No, clean it first.’

The look, the piercing look, it made Martha’s throat dry up. There was no chance that she’d argue with him, so grabbed the cloth and wiped it clean in front of him.

While she was doing as he asked, the man took the time to introduce himself. ‘I’m Special Deputy Charlie Rakes, I don’t know if you’ve heard of me.’

‘No, sir, I haven’t.’

Rakes didn’t expect Martha to reply so quickly, he had assumed that he had struck fear in her, that’s what he had hoped, anyway. He had scared her enough back at the invalid’s cabin, he thought. It was easy enough to find out where she lived and worked, he had many questions for her. The harder part was to get her alone, there was always one Bondurant at the Station.

‘What are you doing in a place like this?’ He asked, nursing the mug in front of him after Martha poured the coffee. She noticed that he wasn’t wearing gloves, the reminder of the state of his gloves from the first time she had seen him crossed her mind, and she shuddered.

‘It’s so I can earn a couple of dollars for myself.’ Martha’s gaze went from his hands back up to his face.

Martha wanted to move away, but she thought he might call her back to address him straight ahead. Martha thought it be best to keep a constant eye on him, letting her gaze wander may have been a bad move.

‘No harm in a young lady wanting to earn some money for herself. What’s your name?’ Rakes already knew that piece of information, he was just biding his time.

‘Martha, sir.’

‘Well, Martha, I have a question for you.’ He started. He enjoyed the way that Martha was holding her gaze to him, like she couldn’t look away for just one moment.

‘Do you know what a still is?’

Her answer was obvious to Rakes, he saw her blink rapidly and swallow deeply. He just wondered how good a liar she was.

‘You mean the word still? I guess, in a sentence -’

‘You aren’t that stupid, Martha.’

The cutting words made Martha gulp again, she didn’t want Rakes to know the truth, but it was obvious that he knew the answers to his own question anyway.

‘Do you live alone at the house?’

‘With my Poppa.’ Martha answered before thinking over Rakes’ words, she realised that he was letting on that he knew where she lived, and that thought haunted her.

‘And your parents?’

‘Both dead.’

Rakes took a moment to pause, still not having touched the coffee in front of him. He wasn’t going to drink it anyway, he didn’t want his lips to touch what could’ve been the dirtiest cup in the room.

‘That’s upsetting.’ His words did not mirror his emotions, there was not an ounce of empathy about him.

‘What would they think to their daughter affiliating herself with the likes of the Bondurant’s?’

Again, Martha didn’t miss a step in replying. ‘With all due respect, sir, the dead don’t have opinions of the living.’

Martha wasn’t always that bold to people she barely knew, but she felt smart. Rakes, on the other hand, sneered at the disrespect, and reached out to grab Martha’s wrists, as her hands were held up in front of her. The notepad dropped from her grip, and her body went forward with the force. The gun that was in her apron clunked against the counter, but there was no way of grabbing it.

‘I don’t think that attitude suits your tongue.’

A gasp had escaped Martha’s mouth when she was brought forward, and she winced at how tight Rakes was holding her. Their heads were barely ten inches apart, and Martha couldn’t help but run her gaze over his face, which had settled on his lips when he had spoken.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Being so close to a person, you start to notice things about them.’

It was a cryptic comment to make, and it seemed to frustrate Rakes more. Instead of letting go of Martha’s wrist, his clutch tightened, making Martha squint. She didn’t want to whimper or beg for him to let her go, but he was holding her so damn tight.

‘What do you see?’

Rakes’ voice sounded desperate, it wasn’t the question that Martha thought he was going to ask.

‘Uh … I -’

‘What do you see!?’ Rakes said, frenzied. Martha felt some spit land on her face, and pulled a face at him in disgust.

The sound of voices outside interrupted their close encounter, and to Martha’s relief, it was the familiar voices of Forrest and Howard, with Cricket following behind.

Rakes was immediately put off by the thought of someone close, so let go of Martha’s hands and pushed himself off of the chair. Like before, he adjusted his suit, and then slicked his hair back with a hand that had just been squeezing Martha’s.

‘Lucky you,’ he started, disdain and anger pervading his expression, ‘saved by a Bondurant.’

The front door swung open, and Forrest was the first to appear, both hands in his cardigan pockets. The look of fury was undeniable, and it seemed to grow as he flicked his eyes between Martha and Rakes.

‘What’s going on here?’ He grumbled.

‘Just supporting local business, Forrest. Nothing wrong with that.’ Rakes walked forward to leave, but Forrest stayed still, his large frame blocking the doorway, and Howard had joined him at the threshold.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest eventually stepped aside to let Rakes pass, but stuck a hand out before he could walk through the door.

‘If you’ve got any kind of brain on you, then you’ll know not to step a foot into this place again.’

Rakes looked Forrest up and down, then did the same to Howard, and let out a laugh. That was his only reply before he left. Forrest and Howard burnt holes in the back of him as he walked to his car, Forrest had to grip onto Howard’s jacket to stop him from stalking after Rakes, he knew it wasn’t the time to spill blood.

Martha felt embarrassed. After Rakes had sped away, Forrest sent Howard out to work in the sheds, and Cricket went into the garage, being ordered to by Forrest. He made his way over to the counter, Martha kept herself busy by cleaning away the plates that had been left by the customers that had scarpered, and didn’t make eye contact with Forrest.

‘Martha.’ Forrest’s eyes didn’t look away as she walked from table to table, picking up each plate and stacking them on top. She was still ignoring him as she walked over to the swing door to get behind the counter, but Forrest had moved before her, close enough to stop her.

‘Martha.’

Martha finally made eye contact with Forrest, and caved. She put the plates down, and sighed, closing her eyes and looking away for a moment.

‘I’m fine, Forrest, he did nothing.’

‘Then what’s that?’

Martha wasn’t sure what Forrest was talking about, but when she looked to him, his eyes were focused on her hands, more specifically, her wrists. When Martha looked for herself, she noticed how red they were, the imprints of Rakes’ grip was fading and leaving behind a red mark, like a rash, it was obvious against her pale complexion.

‘And you didn’t want to use your gun?’ Forrest said, almost mockingly, his lips pursed together. He said it in a ‘told-you-so’ way, Martha didn’t appreciate it.

‘Rakes had both of my hands, so I wouldn’t have been able to get it anyway.’

They were not the words Forrest wanted to hear. Extraordinarily, Forrest put his hand out to rest on Martha’s arm, a way to give her comfort that he thought she needed. It was not in Forrest’s nature to show such a display of affection, but Martha had switched something inside of him, and since they were the only two in the room, he thought it was safe to act on his feelings.

When Forrest’s hand reached her arm, Martha felt herself warm to it, like it was supposed to be there.

‘I just need to know that you’re alright, Martha.’

There was an urge for Martha to put her hand on his, to physically show that she was alright, but instead, she kept her hand on the counter, flexing with agitation.

‘I’m alright, promise.’

Forrest’s eyes softened with Martha’s response, but before he could say the thoughts he had in mind, Howard’s loud mouth could be heard from the porch, and in the hurry to not be seen together, Martha moved away from Forrest and back out to the tables to get the rest of the plates.

As Martha passed him, her perfume struck him once again, the honey, sweet honey scent she carried, it made Forrest’s bones wake up, and he grumbled at the back of his throat. He cursed his brother, just in that moment.


	8. Recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

Forrest kept a close eye on Martha for a couple of days after the incident with Rakes, he was looking to see if any part of her had changed because of it. He’d understand if she didn’t want to work at the Station anymore, and had prepared himself for that end, but she didn’t kick up a fuss about, and carried on working as hard as she had been before. It was a good job that Martha didn’t end up leaving, since Forrest was desperate to take in her perfume whenever she came into the study to give him lunch, or when he came out to refill his coffee mug. Surely, she would’ve noticed his long pauses, he’d go still or linger when she was near, but Martha was discreet, about most things anyway, so hadn’t said anything.

There weren’t many women that caused Forrest to act out in the past, perhaps the one sweetheart Forrest knew when he was young, he was only a teenager at the time. It was a whirlwind, and the older he got, the less he remembered from that time. To have Martha around, it had awoken something in the pit of his stomach, but he was cautious about the matter.

Martha wasn’t one for telling her life story to people, she kept herself to herself, and any secrets that came with that. Forrest had no clue of her life in Washington, and what she was like growing up, even if she was feeling the same way he was. It wasn’t like Forrest to be critical of himself, especially of his own appearance, but he wondered just how Martha viewed him. Probably just as a bootlegger hick, with a bad temper. There wasn’t much time to wonder about Martha’s thoughts, as Forrest had his mind on the folks from Chicago, the ones who were coming over. He had asked Howard to be around, Forrest wasn’t going to be meeting new people on his own, so all he had to do was wait for him to get back with Danny.

The night was drawing in, and the Station was busy. Forrest was keeping it open late, since his business with the men wasn’t going to happen until late. Waiting for Howard was turning into a nightmare and a disappointment, Forrest had no idea where he was, or what he was going to do about the people arriving.

Martha was tired from the day’s work, and was eager to get going, but Forrest was still in his study, seeing out the night. Cricket was on look out, but after waiting for too long, he went over to Forrest, telling him that Howard still hadn’t turned up. Forrest came out of his study, and walked over to the counter.

‘Shut it down, Martha.’ Forrest grumbled. Martha nodded, and tried to hide her relief in being able to finally clean everything up. Forrest stayed by the counter, to discourage people from ordering anything new, and his presence was enough to make people finish their dinner quickly.

People left soon enough, with only a handful remaining when Martha had almost finished tidying up, so Forrest went back to his study to finish working on the books. With only four people left in the Station, Forrest thought that they’d be gone in no time, but the sounds of shouting and swearing caught him off guard. Before Forrest could pace out of his study, Cricket had come to the door to get his attention.

‘You stupid bitch!’

There were only two men left now, the others had scarpered when the commotion started, knowing better than to linger in such a situation.

‘Alright now, that’s enough.’ Forrest ordered the man. He’d seen that he had a hold on Martha’s arm, but let go as soon as Forrest came out of his study.

‘I paid for a jar, and she won’t give it.’ The man spat. Forrest look from the man to Martha, who slyly shook her head. There was no debate in believing Martha over a stranger with a short temper. He returned his gaze back to the man.

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘We gonna buy near a’hundred gallons of your liquor. Now, you ain’t gunna throw in some extra?’

‘You ain’t buying a goddamn thing. Now go on, get out of here.’

The man didn’t move, and Cricket came up to Forrest’s side.

‘He pulled a knife on her, Forrest.’

Forrest saw red, and looked back to the man, who waited for a reaction from him.

‘Did you pull a knife on this woman?’

The man only smirked. He lunged forward to punch Forrest, but Forrest was quicker and stronger, and with one strike of his fist, the man flew back and into a table, then onto the floor with a crash. The other man managed to strike Forrest in the face, but before he could pin Forrest up, Forrest got into his pocket and pulled out the knuckle duster. With the man against the post, Forrest hit once behind him, then turned and punched the man’s throat, the duster doing all sorts of damage.

Martha could’ve heaved at the sight of the blood, and just watched in horror as Forrest punched once to the head, and then to the man’s cheek. The man fell with a thud, shattering a glass on his way down.

‘Alright now, sorry.’ Forrest mumbled, he felt he needed to with Martha just a few paces away. He slipped the duster off of his knuckles, he didn’t want Martha to see what he had used. Forrest glanced Martha’s way, then got to work in carrying the men’s bodies out of the Station, one at a time.

* * *

 

Forrest came off far better than the other men, it was only his brow that had split, and Martha knew enough to patch him up. Cricket waited outside, he was the one to take her home, but Martha had to tend to Forrest first.

They sat under one of the table lights, close enough so Martha could see what she was doing. There was a purpose as to why she was so close to Forrest’s face, so, at first, she didn’t feel awkward about it. But there was a look in Forrest’s eyes, he daren’t look away from her as she worked, and it made Martha’s throat dry, their close encounter was becoming more than just a patch-up job.

‘Still didn’t want to use your gun?’ Forrest’s grumbly tone cut through the silence. There was a part of Martha that knew he was going to mention it, and since she’d already cleared up the wound, she couldn’t put pressure on him to shut him up. Instead, she sat down in the chair in front of him, and looked down at her lap.

‘I’m sorry, Forrest.’

‘You can’t be shy about using it, men back off when a gun’s pointed at them.’ Forrest, leant forward, bringing his body closer to Martha’s, and he looked down to the hands folded in her lap.

‘I know.’

Forrest did it again, he let his feelings take over his body. Martha’s hands that were neatly folded in her lap were calling to him, and he put his own on top of them. Neither of them said anything, and since Martha didn’t discourage the move, Forrest moved his thumb back and forth over her skin, it was a comforting gesture.

The night was dragging on, and Martha knew that she had to get home. She and Forrest parted soon enough, although they didn’t really want to. Forrest watched as Cricket drove Martha away.

In the car, Martha couldn’t help but feel the weight on her hands still.

‘Was Forrest alright?’ Cricket asked.

‘Yeah, just a cut.’

As Martha spoke, the cold, night air affected her arms, and goose bumps rose from her skin.

‘Oh, shoot.’ She said out loud.

‘Is everythin’ alright, Miss Martha?’

‘I forgot my jacket. Do you mind going back for it?’

Cricket didn’t mind at all, and swung the car around to make the drive back to the Station.

‘Forrest is still here.’ Martha pointed out, seeing the car parked up in the same place it had been when they left. ‘You know, I can just get Forrest to drop me back, it is really late, Cricket.’

Martha’s heart was beating at the thought of having Forrest driving her home, she hoped that Cricket could be convinced.

‘Are you sure, Miss Martha?’

‘Yeah, you go home and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Cricket didn’t argue any further. It was clear that Forrest was still around, so he had no worries about that. Martha grabbed her purse from the seat beside her, and exited the car. Cricket drove away as Martha walked up to the Station. The night air was making her shiver, but so was the thought of seeing Forrest again.

She walked up the porch, and opened the door. All of the lights were off.

‘Forrest?’ She called out. There was no response.

‘Forrest, I forgot my-’

‘Well, lookey here. The bitch came back.’

The voice was familiar, and it ran cold down Martha’s spine. A figure came out from Forrest’s study, only seen by the moonlight that shone through the window.

It was a reflex, Martha stuck a hand in her purse, and rummaged for the revolver. There was no fear in holding it out, and Martha felt a pulse of adrenaline run through her when she cocked the hammer.

‘You better get going now, I will use this.’ Martha’s voice was shaking, and that shakiness travelled down her arm.

‘Don’t be making mistakes, girly-’

The shot deafened Martha for a moment, her finger had been poised on the trigger, and she had pulled it. The man staggered back, his leg had been hit. A sound came from Martha’s right, the sounds of huffing and pacing, and she turned to see the other man, hands outstretched and heading for her.

Martha turned and held the gun out to him, and backed away.

‘You take your friend and you get out of here.’ Martha’s voice was steadier this time, and the other man stopped for a moment. He wasn’t concerned about his friend; his eyes were trained onto Martha and her gun.

‘You fuckin’ bitch.’ He seethed, and went to lunge at her.

A shot rang out again, this time the bullet hit the man’s shoulder. It was enough to stop him, and instead of approaching Martha, who was now plastered against the counter, the man grabbed his friend.

‘Come on, she ain’t worth it.’ He growled.

Martha watched with wide eyes as the two men staggered out of the Station, both heaving with pain.

The hand that was holding the gun was still shaking, and tears eventually fell from Martha’s eyes, mostly out of relief. It had all occurred so fast, there was no way to process it as it was happening, and now the Station was silent, she cried.

There was a thud on the floor as the gun fell from her grip. Martha breathed out slowly, and gathered herself. She sniffed and wiped away her tears as she walked over to the coat rack by Forrest’s study. Her jacket was still there, but she didn’t waste any time putting it on, she was desperate to get out.

‘Forrest?’ Martha called out, her voice weak from the tears. She held her breath to hear the reply, but nothing came.

Martha wasn’t in the mood for waiting, so turned and left, not worrying about where Forrest was. She’d have to walk, or take Forrest’s car, he’d surely understand.

When Martha walked out onto the porch, a fear ran through her again, the thought of the two men hiding out for her made her want to go back inside, but she decided that she would see about taking Forrest’s car.

Martha was in for the second fright of the night, as when she walked to the car to get into the driver’s seat, she heard the sounds of vile choking, so looked for the source. She walked around the front of the car, and coughed out a gasp that caught in her throat.

Forrest was lying on his back, hands to his throat, and spluttering out what sounded like his last breaths. Martha jolted forward and knelt down, grabbing her jacket and forcing it under Forrest’s hands.

‘Forrest, use this, use this!’ She ordered, trying to pry his hands away. Forrest was barely conscious, but was responsive enough that his hands ended up grabbing the jacket.

Martha jumped up and swung open the passenger door to the car, then prepared herself to pick Forrest up. By just looking at him, anyone could deduce that Forrest was a lump of a man, and since he was becoming unconscious, Martha had to handle him at deadweight. She crouched down and hooked her arms under his shoulders, then heaved herself up. It took several tries, and eventually Forrest was sitting up, his hands hadn’t left his throat.

It must’ve been the second wave of adrenaline beating through her veins, Martha managed to bring Forrest to his feet and dragged him to the car. Luckily for her, Forrest still has some sense in his surroundings, and when Martha hunched over to move backwards to heave him into the car, he gave her some leverage by picking his feet up. Martha reached over Forrest to slam the door shut, and got out her side to grab her purse, lying on the floor where she’d dropped it.

Martha’s knowledge about driving was limited, her father had been the one to teach her when she was younger, and he taught her the do’s and don’ts, but it was her friend, who had his own car at the age of fifteen, that encouraged her to put her foot down and pelt it down the roads. Martha was driving so fast, and also looking over at Forrest every other second. There was a constant sound of grumbles that left his throat, grumbles would turn into gurgling.

The car skidded to a halt when they got to the hospital, and Martha leapt from her side of the car, and almost slipped over as she ran to the other side. To her amazement, Forrest had already started moving himself to get out of the car, and he removed his left arm to hang it around Martha’s shoulder. He leant his full weight on Martha’s body as they stumbled to the hospital porch, Martha was straining with the weight of him, her shoulders and back were burning, but she wasn’t in a condition like Forrest, so she couldn’t complain.

‘Help!’ Martha shouted. She had to shout again once they got to the door, and a nurse came to see what the fuss was. Martha didn’t need to shout again, as the nurse gathered another nurse and a porter who took Forrest from her. The three rushed in the other direction, there was no one else to worry about in that moment, and Martha could only watch as Forrest was wheeled away.

* * *

 

Martha wasn’t asked any questions by the hospital staff, no one came back to tell her where Forrest had gone, nor had her jacket been returned. Instead of waiting around, Martha decided to go home.

It was gone midnight when Martha pulled up to the house. The porch light was still on, and Martha sighed. She knew it would’ve looked suspicious for her Poppa, turning up in the Bondurant car, with blood over her hands.

Her Poppa was out on the porch before Martha had gotten out of the car.

‘Martha, what the hell?’

‘Poppa, you didn’t have to stay up.’

Martha walked up to the porch, and she came into the light.

‘What in the hell happened to you?’ Ray could see the blood that was on her hands, Martha didn’t even realise that there was blood on her dress. She guessed that there was no point hiding the truth from her Poppa, apart from the use of the gun, that he didn’t even know existed.

‘Forrest got hurt, I had to take him to the hospital.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Ray swore, running his hand over his hair. Martha looked exhausted from it, which concerned him.

‘Martha, are you alright? You look shaken. These attackers, they didn’t …’

‘No, they’d gone by the time I saw Forrest.’

Her Poppa didn’t push the matter further, as he saw how tired Martha looked. He took her inside and saw her upstairs, but Martha insisted on having a bath first.

At one in the morning, Martha sunk herself into the bath, only half-filled, and she had scrubbed her hands at the sink, scrubbed them till they were raw, to get the blood off. When Martha drove back from the hospital, she felt as if she could’ve slept for a week, but whilst in the bath, her mind was awake with worry.

The echoes of the bullets were still in her mind, she had finally used her gun, just in time as well. Martha couldn’t bear the thought of thinking what could’ve happened if she hadn’t used her gun on the men. It wasn’t worth thinking about, and that led onto the thoughts of whether she should tell Forrest or not. He would’ve lost his mind if he knew that she had come back, and Martha thought that he wouldn’t have been conscious to know that she was there anyway. But then there was the car that was outside, Forrest’s car, in the back there were some crates of shine. If Howard or Jack were to come home, they would’ve noticed that the car was gone. Martha decided to return it in the morning, and if it was early enough, no one may have realised that it was gone in the first place.

Martha’s sleep was uneasy, she either couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep in, or, when she did close her eyes, the horrid memories flooded back and her mind was awake again. The time soon came when her window started letting in a low light, and the birds started chirping, Martha looked over to her clock. It had just gone five, and for Martha, a good a time as any to get up and take the car back. No one would be up, and there would be no trouble on her walk back.

Martha put on a fresh dress, and tip-toed her way downstairs, her shoes in her hands so she wouldn’t wake her Poppa. When she reached the porch, she slipped on her plimsolls and took off in the car.

The sun was rising, light was streaming low and the trees Martha passed were casting a low shadow, the morning air was chilly, but keeping her awake. The Station was quiet, Martha knew that it would’ve been, and slowly brought the car up to park it in the garage, rather than the front. It would be a more plausible alibi to have the car in the garage, to account for Howard and Jack not seeing in the night before. Martha shut the door slowly, and began the walk back to her Poppa’s house.

Instead of it being a peaceful walk and seeing the world wake up, the walk was making Martha sick. Tiredness was setting in, and Martha regretted not getting her Poppa to drop her off. By the time Martha got to the house, the sun was up high, and the heat was giving Martha a headache. She made her way into the kitchen, and poured herself a large cup of water, it was gone within a few gulps.

‘Martha?’ Her Poppa called out. Martha waited to be berated by him, and poured herself another cup of water. Ray walked into the kitchen, and leant against the counter to address her.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve already taken the car around.’ Her Poppa sounded like a concerned father, his arms were crossed in front of him.

‘It’s done, Poppa. No one was up.’

‘How’re you feelin’?’

‘Ugh, like something awful.’

‘I bet. You won’t be goin’ in today.’ Ray said. He knew Martha would begin to protest, but he had to put his foot down.

‘They have no one else, I have to.’

‘Nope. You won’t, they can answer to me if they got a problem. Just take a day for yourself, Martha. Read a book, darn some socks, I dunno.’

Ray left the kitchen before Martha could argue back, but, in truth, there was nothing more she wanted than to go back to bed and sleep the morning through. The second cup of water disappeared quickly, and Martha paced upstairs, and didn’t even make it out of her dress to go back to sleep.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Martha woke up, and it wasn’t from her own volition. Her name was being called, and she jolted awake. She was only lying on the blankets, but her dress was stuck to her back, the mid-morning heat was permeating through her room, she had forgotten to open a window.

Martha thought the shout was in her dreams, and sat bolt upright in her bed until her name was called again. Not bothering to even checked how she looked, Martha assumed that it was her Poppa with food, so left the bedroom, fanning herself with her hand as she walked down the stairs.

‘Martha, Jack Bondurant’s here.’

Martha’s heart skipped a beat, she was at the foot of the stairs as Jack came into view from the front room. Several thoughts passed through Martha’s mind, she wondered if Jack was going to tell Martha off for taking the car, or why she hadn’t turned up for work, but he had a sincere look on his face.

‘Miss Martha, mornin’.’ Jack greeted.

Martha smiled and nodded. ‘Is everything alright, I know I didn’t turn up for work, but-’

‘No, there’s no worry about that. It’s just, Forrest got hurt last night, I thought you should know.’

‘Is he alright?’

‘Yeah, you know how Forrest is.’ Jack seemed to be amused by it, and it was clear that he had no clue of Martha’s involvement.

‘What happened to him?’ Martha decided to act none the wiser, to see if there was more information that Jack could give her.

‘He was cut, on his throat, and hear this, he walked to the hospital, bleedin’ out and everythin’!’ Jack’s expression was like a child’s talking about his hero, Jack was proud to tell that story to anyone who would hear it. For Martha, her heart sunk, it didn’t make sense. Surely the nurse knew that she drove in, or did she think that Martha was just wandering by and picked up a man who was bleeding to death?

Martha had heard about the Bondurant legend through Cricket, which was then backed up by Jack. Both Howard and Forrest had managed to avoid death beforehand, and the civilians of Franklin County had bestowed the honour on immortality on them both. Martha thought it was nonsense, luck could strike at any time, such as the night before, when she had come back for her jacket. However, seeing the look on Jack’s face discouraged Martha telling the truth.

‘Oh God. That’s … just awful.’

‘He’ll survive, don’t worry.’ Jack was acting composed about the situation, like it had happened before, and Forrest had come out the other side unscathed.

‘I’m sorry I’m not at work, Jack, I just wasn’t feeling well.’

‘No worries, after hearin’ about what happened to Forrest, we weren’t goin’ to open to the Station anyway. You’ll be in tomorrow though, right?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

* * *

 

Instead of working, which was what Martha had become used to, she spent it in her room, catching up on her sleep, then went around the house cleaning. Her Poppa did a good job of managing the house himself, but Martha was kicking her heels. She had to keep herself busy, and although she was working all day, scrubbing the floors and emptying cupboards to thoroughly clean them, she was anxious about Forrest’s condition. It was all well and good to pretend that Forrest was immortal, but it was not realistic, and it didn’t bode well for Martha’s nerves.

The day ended, and Martha’s hands were smelling of bleach, her skin was peeling with blisters, and she had to go bed at nine. Unlike the night before, there were no distractions to keep her mind awake, so she slept the night through.

Martha started the morning like any other, she got up, washed, dressed, ate breakfast and began her walk to the Station. She thought about the different ways she could bring up the subject of Forrest to Jack or Howard. There was a part of her that wanted to see him, and another that didn’t.

She wanted to see the damage, and to know if he was recovering well. Jack hadn’t really given much away when he saw her the day before, there was a curiosity to see the scar, and to know if he was coping. The side of her that didn’t want to see him was rational. There was no way Martha could lie to him, he would stare at her, into her soul, and she’d have to confess that she had come back to the Station, and that the men were there, as if they were waiting for her. Martha could imagine the look on his face, and that wasn’t something she thought she could bare.

Jack was outside on the porch as Martha approached, and he jogged up to her side.

‘Mornin’, Martha.’

Martha greeted Jack, and they fell into step together.

‘Look, Howard and I were talkin’, did you want to see Forrest? He won’t be able to talk to you, but, we were just thinkin’.’

‘Oh.’

Martha didn’t realise at first, but she had stopped walking.

‘Would it bother you if you saw him?’ Jack asked.

‘No, would we go now?’

‘Yeah, we can open the Station a little later.’

Martha didn’t protest anymore, and Jack was fine to drive them both to the hospital. On the way there, Jack reminded Martha that Forrest had, unbelievably, walked to the hospital, and he seemed to be more impressed about it the second time. Martha didn’t comment on it, but she didn’t want Jack to be the first to know the truth. They arrived promptly, and Jack was decent enough to wait in the car, so Martha made her way in on her own.

There was a different nurse at the reception, there was no chance of being recognised, and she led Martha to Forrest’s room.

‘He’s recovering, so he shouldn’t speak.’

The door was open, but the nurse was standing in the threshold, and Martha had an urge to push her to the side. Once the nurse stepped aside, Martha took a breath before walking in.

Forrest had stirred when there were voices coming from the side of the room, but he couldn’t turn to look the door. He heard the nurse at first, so assumed it was either Howard or Jack, but she was talking about his state, and his brothers already knew about how he was recovering. There was no one else he could think of who would come to see him, and that’s when Martha walked through the door.

Martha managed a smile, but went straight from looking Forrest in the eyes to the gauze around his neck. She tore her gaze long enough to walk to the other side of his bed, and brought the wooden chair to sit beside him. Forrest didn’t move his head, but kept his eyes trained on Martha’s every move.

Once settled in the chair, Martha looked back to Forrest, and gulped. It was obvious that he was waiting on her to make the first move, and she crumbled under his gaze, made more intense by the fact he couldn’t move his head. It was like he was squinting at her, either from the pain, or from her presence.

‘Forrest?’ Martha’s voice was soft.

‘Mmhm?’ Forrest’s trademark grumble sounded worse than before. He still had his eyes on her.

‘Are … are you well?’

It was a stupid question, Martha realised that. Forrest almost wanted to laugh at how benign a question it was, but didn’t, he knew it wasn’t the time to be laughing at Martha’s naiveté.

Forrest immediately noticed how distant Martha became. Her question had been answered, but then she looked down to her hands, she was wringing them together in her lap. It was made more obvious by the fact she wasn’t making eye contact, but Forrest noticed that her eyes were flicking rapidly, not looking at anything for too long. It was a clear bout of nerves.

‘What?’

It didn’t even sound like Forrest’s voice, but Martha looked straight to him. How did he do it? Martha wondered how he knew that something was wrong, and it was clear that he wasn’t going to let it be.

Martha bit her lip, and breathed in, then out, slowly.

‘Forrest …’ Martha started, Forrest waited patiently, ‘I forgot my jacket that night, so I came back.’

Forrest was confused for a moment, his brows creased, and then his mind started racing. He was jumping to conclusions, thinking the worst, and he choked, he wanted to say something, but his voice was lost in translation.

‘Forrest.’ Martha reached her hand forward, and placed it on Forrest’s. She didn’t realise how frustrated he was, his grip was harder than she thought it would be.

‘Cricket drove me back, and we saw your truck there, so I said that you could drive me home. I went in to find you …’

There was more choking from Forrest as Martha told her story, if it wasn’t for his damn neck he’d be lashing out, desperate to know what Martha’s end was.

‘They didn’t get me Forrest, didn’t even touch me. I shot them, one in the shoulder, one in the leg, and they left.’

Martha sighed, and looked away from Forrest. It was a relief for her to let out her thoughts, and the truth. It was playing on her mind unhealthily, and Forrest was the one to trust with the information.

Forrest, on the other hand, was beside himself with anger. He was angry that he wasn’t there to protect her. He had said many times for her to use her gun, but really, he should’ve been the one to shoot the men. But to see the relief on Martha’s face, to feel her hand wrapped in his, he calmed himself enough to appreciate that he was the one she trusted.


	9. Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

It was clear to Forrest that Martha had told only him about the incident at the Station, and that was the way he was going to keep it. There was a slight embarrassment when Martha talked about the men that attacked her, because she felt she was an easy target, and that she finally used the gun, but Forrest didn’t let her dwell on it, nor did he make her feel ashamed about using the gun.

When Martha left, Forrest worked himself up again, he couldn’t help but think how helpless Martha would’ve felt when pulling the trigger. He’d encouraged it from her, but didn’t think about how Martha really felt about it, the fear must’ve been running deep to finally give in like that.

Forrest spent a few more days in hospital, and soon enough was sat on the front porch of the Station, sipping on his black coffee, but he was not calm. Jack had gone off with the white lightening the day before, and had yet to return.

Martha was wise enough to know to wait inside, Jack was probably going to return soon, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near Forrest when he chewed Jack out. She kept herself busy enough, wiping down counters, and organising the cutlery, there were no customers yet, since it was so early.

Soon enough, the sounds of a car speeding down the dirt road to the Station could be heard. Martha looked out of the mesh door, a few paces away, and kept her ears open, surely there was no harm in being a little nosy.

Before Jack got out of the car, he was already bargaining with Forrest, he knew that Forrest would be pissed. Words spilled out his mouth, as did the money from the white sack Jack had earned.

‘Look at you.’ Forrest started, ‘you think you’re so goddam smart, huh? Swanning around like your Al Capone. With your new best friend. You take a good look, Jack,’ Forrest gestured to the thick scar circling his throat, ‘that’s your new best friend.’

‘You’re wrong there, too. Special Deputy Rakes was the one who hired the men to do that to you.’

Forrest grumbled nonsense, then replied, ‘Who told you that?’

Forrest hadn’t even finished his sentence before Jack came back with his reply. ‘Floyd Banner himself.’

‘Oh, Floyd Banner himself!’ Forrest was being sarcastic, and Martha bit her lip anxiously, ‘well, that must be gospel. What’s that?’

Whilst Forrest was talking, Jack had reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, holding it up in the direction of Forrest.

‘It’s a gift. From Floyd Banner. It’s an address Forrest, for where you can find them bastards who cut your throat.’

Martha took a few steps closer to the mesh door, to see Forrest’s reaction. Before the paper was shown, he was acting indifferent to Jack and his story, but with the address being waved in front of him, he seemed to have changed his mind.

‘I say we get ‘em tonight.’

Both Martha and Howard waited for Forrest’s reaction, but he kept his demeanour cool as Jack climbed the porch steps.

‘Anything else I can do for you, Forrest? Sweep your fuckin’ floors, maybe?’ Jack placed the scrap of paper on Forrest’s large shoulder, and pulled open the door. He saw the smirk on Martha’s face, she couldn’t help but find his last comment amusing. ‘I got somewhere I gotta be.’ Jack called, walking further into the Station.

Howard was looking back and forth from Martha to Forrest, seeing that Martha was trying, badly, to hide the smile on her face. Forrest took the paper from his shoulder, not looking at anyone, and without looking at the address, he tucked it into his pocket. Martha walked away from the door, and tried hard to keep her face straight as Forrest left his seat on the porch and went inside as well.

Even with her head down, acting as if she was working hard, Martha felt like a naughty school girl, trying not to giggle in front of the teacher. Forrest stood in the doorway, the scrap of paper now in his pocket, and looked over to the counter. He made his way over, each step made the floorboards creak, and he wanted to put Martha on edge.

Martha flicked her eyes up a few times to see Forrest approaching, and the urge to spread her lips into a smile was excruciating.

‘Is something amusing, Martha?’ Forrest’s drawl was made worse by the cut on his throat. Martha looked up at Forrest, and daren’t smile at his stern face.

‘No, Forrest, nothing.’ Several times her breath caught in her throat, and she had to bit her lip and the inside of her cheek. She was not going to laugh in Forrest’s face, she would’ve severely regretted it.

Martha’s chin ended up shaking, but Forrest moved away. As soon as Martha turned, her face relaxed, and she let out some silent giggles.

Forrest went into his study, and sneakily went over to the cubby, to see if he could catch Martha. She was still smiling wide as she prepared the breakfast things, not realising that Forrest could see her. He wanted to be angry at her for finding the situation funny, Jack went against his orders, and now thought he left gold in his footsteps wherever he went, but his anger lightened at seeing how she smiled.

* * *

 

The address that Floyd Banner had given Jack came in handy in the end, and it was Forrest and Howard that went out to find the bastards. It was a blood bath, Forrest let fury take over his mind to deal with them. There was the part of him that wanted to cut them up for what they did to him, no man was going to survive that end. Then his thoughts turned to Martha. Forrest checked the legs and shoulders of the men, and saw the evidence of Martha’s gun, there were two wounds, both healing from the night, but Forrest made sure to remind them of the pain, manipulating the bullet wounds to his advantage.

Martha was clear when telling Forrest that the men did not lay one finger on her, and he had a right mind to believe her, but that didn’t stop him from getting his vengeance in her name.

Then thoughts turned to Rakes, and they ended up sending him a little present, to remind him of just who he was messing with.

The drama had passed for Martha and Forrest, he never asked her to explain the events that occurred the night he got his throat slit, he wouldn’t want to put that pressure on her. It was obvious that she had been affected, and once again, Forrest thought she might leave the Station, thinking that using her gun was the final straw, but she stayed. Forrest was grateful for it, by having her closer, he was able to look after her better when she worked. Instead of using his study to do his work, Forrest would bring his books out to the main floor.

Both Howard and Jack noticed the change in Forrest, but they were smart enough to not bring the subject up with him. They didn’t speak to each other, either, but communicated through knowing looks.

When Forrest began to watch Martha work, he had noticed her demeanour and little behaviours, the pencil behind her ear, her flushed cheeks, but now he was sat in her eye line constantly, he noticed new things. Every time he wanted a new cup of coffee, Martha would take the liberty of washing the cup up first, even though he never asked her to. Martha would give Forrest the biggest portions of food, and even arranged the food pleasing, cutting up his sandwiches neatly, or adding a garnish, she would even ask his opinion on the food. Forrest had never complained about her cooking before, but it seemed now more than ever, Martha wanted to make sure he was alright with what she was doing, and how she was doing it.

‘Why don’t ‘chu make my sandwiches like that?’ Howard exclaimed one day. He was sat with Forrest on the table, and was unimpressed in how his lunch was presented, compared to Forrest’s.

Martha was quick to shut him up. ‘Did you get injured, Howard?’

Howard stared at her, but he gave in. ‘No, Martha, I did not.’

‘Then stop your complaining. You’re not the one who has to recover.’

Forrest didn’t get involved, nor scolded Howard for mumbling comments behind Martha’s back. It wasn’t normal for him to be looked after, and if it was anyone else, he would protest it. He had to admit, with a breathy laugh, he liked be coddled over by Martha.

Another change that occurred was Martha’s journey home after her shift. It was Forrest who now took her home, he didn’t trust Jack, nor Cricket, to drive her back safely, and if it was him, he had peace of mind in knowing she walked through the front door of her house. Forrest had put his foot in his mouth when he insisted to drive her into work as well as drive her home, but Martha insisted that she preferred to walk. Forrest grumbled at the thought, but when Martha put a hand on his arm to reassure him, he melted and gave in.

It wasn’t going to last, just barely-there touches between him and Martha, Forrest knew that there was going to be a time when he would have to be closer to Martha, and it would be a risk on his part. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, nor make her feel unwelcome at the Station. For the time being, Forrest would have to make do with admiring Martha from his seat at the table.


	10. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

The Station was where Martha spend most of her waking hours. Her Poppa was happy that Martha was working and earning her wage, and was shocked when she offered to pay rent.

‘You must be outta your mind!’ He exclaimed. Martha insisted that she had nothing else to spend her money on, except for when she ordered another book to read with Cricket. Her Poppa wouldn’t hear anything of it, and said that if she handed over rent money, he’d hand it straight back to her.

With all the money Martha was earning, there was a little stash hidden in a tin box underneath her bed. It would be saved until she could think of what to spend it on, but she had taken some out for a new dress and set of stockings. It was a delight to have new things to wear, it had been so long since she had indulged herself.

The beginning of May came and went, and the summer was making itself known in Franklin County. There was no need for Martha to wear a jacket or a cardigan when she walked in the morning, even in the early hours, the sun was warm enough.

The only fault that Martha could find was that Stan was still around, and since she wasn’t at home very often, he’d wait out in the mornings to catch her leaving the house. He’d either call over to say good morning, or make the effort to walk with her to the end of the drive. When this started to become a regular thing, Martha tried to speed up, thinking that quickening her pace would mean there would be less time spent with Stan. When he caught her doing so, however, he’d grab onto her arm to yank her back, so she had to walk with him. He’d cuss her out for leaving him quickly, and one time, he even spat at her feet.

Instead on becoming scared, Martha became angry, frustrated that Stan was continuing the repeated performance every morning, it was getting old. Martha thought about mentioning it to Forrest, he would’ve listened to her, and believed her, but he had been through so much already, his scar was still healing, so he didn’t need to be bothered.

On Martha’s one day off a week, she’d spend her day working in the house, cleaning and trying not to be a nuisance to her Poppa. There were errands to run, so Martha and her Poppa drove into town. They went to the general store, then the feed store, and Ray ended up staying, talking to a few of his friends. Martha wasn’t keen to loll about in the midday heat, so made her way back on foot, carrying the groceries with her. She kept herself occupied by munching on an apple, and shifting the bag from arm to arm, distributing the weight. The bag was creating sweats on her arms.

Once back at home, Martha went straight into the kitchen, put the chicken cuts into the fridge, and then put everything else into the cupboards. There was a racket outside on the porch, Martha was confused at first, but then it clicked in her mind.

Before she could process her thoughts, Stan came through the back door, shirtless due to the weather, and sweating like a pig. He heard moving around inside, but hadn’t seen the car out front, so came in to see what was going on. In truth, he was hoping it was Martha, and he had found her.

Ray had set out rules for Stan, even before Martha had turned up. Stan was allowed in the kitchen and the upstairs bathroom only, there was no need for him to be in the front room or dining room, let alone the bedrooms. Martha knew these rules, and as Stan stared at her from the doorway, she took off into the hallway, and up the stairs. Martha figured that he wouldn’t be able to follow her upstairs and into her room, he wasn’t allowed. That wasn’t how Stan’s mind worked, however.

As Martha paced swiftly up the stairs, Stan’s work boots stomped behind her, and Martha had to take two steps at a time. When she reached the stop of the stairs, she sprinted to her room, and turned quickly to slam the door on Stan’s approaching figure. The door hadn’t closed properly, and Stan only used half his strength to push against the door, and it flung back open.

Martha kept moving backwards, then to the side when she hit her bed, all the while not daring to break eye contact with Stan. He was wild eyed, chest heaving up and down, and he went for her. He put his arms out, they gripped onto her shoulders and pushed down hard. Martha was already weak with fear, so the push from Stan had her on the floor. Stan spared no time waiting, and lowered himself on his knees.

Martha wasn’t going to let him win, and instead of letting Stan take control, she brought her leg up and stamped as hard as she could on Stan’s crotch. He growled with pain, hands going straight to where Martha had targeted her foot. When Stan fell to the side, Martha managed to get up, using her bed frame as leverage, and steeled herself for whatever could happen next.

‘You get out! Get out!’ Martha yelled at Stan. She thought her hysterical outcry would put him off, he was still rolling around on the floor. The purse that had her revolver was tucked away in cupboard drawer, she’d have to pass Stan to get to it.

Stan huffed slowly, and recovered quickly from his injury. He glowered at Martha as he stood up to his full height, there were thoughts running through his mind that Martha would never be able to decipher. When Stan took a step forward, Martha prepared to be grabbed again, but instead, Stan took his left hand and swung it out, backhanding Martha in the face. The force made Martha fall onto her bed, her hand went to her face, but Stan went for her again.

Large, snaking fingers wrapped around Martha’s neck, Stan held Martha down on her bed, one knee was resting beside her.

‘You keep that fuckin’ mouth shut, or next time, I’ll squeeze harder.’

Stan had brought his face close to Martha’s, she could smell his rank breath and see the beads of sweat that ran down the side of his face.

To Martha’s luck, Stan left her, but only after giving Martha’s neck one last tight squeeze.

Martha was left on her bed, in the position Stan had left her, for a few minutes. Her breathing had to calm, her pulse had to lessen, before she could move herself. She heard clanking outside, Stan had gone back to work like nothing had occurred between them.

When Martha regained herself, she sat herself up on her bed. The heat from her face was still there, and rushed over to her mirror to see the damage.

A gasp left Martha’s lips. It must’ve been a ring that Stan had been wearing, the ring had caused a split on Martha’s lip. There was a red circle where Stan had hit, but it was not as bad as the split.

Martha had to think quick. She couldn’t let her Poppa know about Stan, and what he’d done to her. Martha swept her gaze around the room, thinking if there was anything she could come up with, and then went down into the kitchen after a thought struck in her mind.

There were a few apples Martha had put in the small bowl on the kitchen table. She took a small knife from the cutlery drawer, sliced the apple up, then helped herself to a few slices. After she placed them on the table, she went into a cupboard to find the small tin box, which had plasters a gauze inside, furthering her alibi. Martha had laid the tin out on the table when she heard her Poppa’s car pull up in the drive. She checked her state in the hallway mirror, and went back into the kitchen. She stood with her back against the door with a hand in the tin, not moving until she heard her Poppa walk through the hallway.

When Ray walked through the threshold, he saw Martha rummaging through the medicine tin. She turned to him, and he saw the split on her lip.

‘Oh God, Martha, what happened?’

Martha had already scripted the conversation in her head, so she was instant in answering her Poppa.

‘I was eating the apple, and sliced my lip.’

Ray came up to Martha’s side, and put a hand on the left side of Martha’s face, getting a better look of the wound.

‘You copyin’ me huh, I done that before, let’s see what we can do.’

As her Poppa reached for the tin, Martha let out a long breath, finding it unbelievable that he had bought her lie.

Martha sat obediently as her Poppa cleaned up the split, and Martha didn’t wince once. The fear she felt for Stan was no longer a worry in her mind, the only thing that bothered her was the lie she would have to tell to Forrest the next day. Forrest could read her like a book, Martha didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep up appearances for him.


	11. Believe Me, Forrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

If Martha was anything like her friends back in Washington, she’d have more of an interest in make-up. She was sure that there was something that could’ve covered her split lip, a powder for the face, and a colour for her lips, but Martha had nothing. She’d have to brace herself for Forrest’s curious gaze, and hope that she could keep up the alibi.

Martha had no bother from Stan as she walked down the drive to the dirt road. She looked behind a few times, her mind was playing tricks on her, but there was no person creating the footsteps her mind had made up.

When the Station finally came into view, Martha held her breath. It was normal for Forrest to be out on the porch, in his chair and drinking coffee. Relief flooded Martha’s worrying mind when she saw that no one was outside, but that didn’t mean she was out of the woods yet, Forrest would’ve been inside the Station.

It was Howard who was the first Bondurant Martha saw that morning. He was by the counter, with a crate of shine in his hands. He gave a double take to Martha, and smirked.

‘You been in a fight?’

His tone was amusing, and Martha feigned a laugh. She flicked her gaze over to the cubby in Forrest’s office, she saw some movement, but focused her attentions to setting up the Station for the day.

Forrest’s ears perked up at Howard’s question. He didn’t know who he was talking to at first, but then he heard the familiar peals of Martha’s laughter, and stopped his work. Why would have Martha been in a fight? What possessed Howard to say something like that? Instead of asking himself more questions that kept him in the dark, Forrest stood from his desk and opened the study door. He caught sight of Martha behind the counter, and the wind was knocked from him chest when he saw the split lip Martha was sporting.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leant against the doorframe, and just watched Martha for a few minutes. It was customary for her to greet all the Bondurant’s with a good morning, but she wasn’t even looking in Forrest’s direction, let alone talking to him.

Martha’s heart jumped when the study door opened, and she kept her head down. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Forrest’s figure emerged from the room, and stopped in the doorway. She was making herself busy by preparing the breakfast things, the eggs and grits she would serve Forrest, but she did not look at him. If she looked at Forrest, she would’ve crumbled.

There was an alibi for her busted lip, Martha had recited it for her Poppa the day before, and she was going to keep to it like gospel. Soon enough, Martha could let loose the breath she had been holding, as she saw Forrest move from the doorway to go back into his study.

There was only a moment of not being observed, however, as Forrest came straight back out, this time he had his empty coffee mug with him. He walked up to the counter and placed the mug on top of it. Martha finally paid attention to Forrest, as she moved over from the other side of the counter to where his mug was, and looked up.

Forrest took one look in Martha’s eyes, then made a pointed stare at her lip. He did it so Martha was aware that he was watching her, and the thought of the wound was in his mind. Martha took the cup from the counter, and turned to wash it in the sink. She spent her time cleaning it, hoping that Forrest would walk away. She continued this hope when she kept her back to him to fill up the mug, pouring the coffee achingly slowly.

Forrest was still there when she turned around, he hadn’t left his place, nor had his eyes left her person. He continued to stare her down.

Martha forced a glare on Forrest, she was telling him there, you have your drink, now leave me alone. She was no longer worried about Forrest’s reaction, all she wanted was for him to stop staring at her. She was not going to be the first one to cave.

For any other person, Forrest wouldn’t have moved from that spot until he got what he wanted. He had made it obvious to Martha that he was standing there and waiting for her to explain herself, and he expected her to do so, due to past encounters. However, Martha was putting up a damn good fight.

There was a lot of pride in Forrest’s reputation in Franklin County, he was a man that took no shit, but Martha was testing him. Questions were forming in his head, all to do with the split lip, and he wasn’t going to be the first person to ask them, he wanted her to come to him. Not only would that mean he could make her tell the truth, but it also meant that she was prepared to tell him was what bothering her, he needed her to trust him, and he didn’t want to force anything out of her.

The stand-off lasted too long, in Forrest’s opinion, and he felt himself giving in. Martha hadn’t looked back up to him, she was tending to the cooking, and her lips were pursed in concentration.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grumbled. He took the mug and turned away from the counter, and walked over to the closest table to his study. He placed the mug down, went into his study to grab his books, then came back out and set everything out. If Martha wasn’t going to talk, he’d wait patiently for her, and in a place where he could keep an eye on her.

It was a useless day for Forrest, he hardly got any work done. It was almost as if in every other second, he had to look up to Martha. When she brought him his breakfast, she did so without a smile, and when she brought over his lunch, the sandwich looked sloppily made, and not Martha’s usual style. With no customers around, there was no bother in anyone getting too handsy with Martha, and they wouldn’t have daren’t in the first place, not with the scowl that she wore all day.

Martha managed to go the whole day without any saying more than two words to anyone, including Forrest. By the time Martha was packing things up at the end of her shift, he had missed her voice. That, and he was getting frustrated, and part of the frustration came from not having Martha talking to him.

Forrest went ahead to go outside and wait by the car, he thought that she might have protested against being driven home. He watched as Martha came out of the mesh front door, and walked slowly to his side. Forrest took the liberty of opening the passenger door for her, so she had to be near him again.

Before Martha could get in the car, however, Forrest put a hand out in front of her. He had his head bowed, and tried not to let his frustrated feelings affect how he would broach the subject.

‘Tell me, Martha.’

He watched Martha debate the thought in her mind, and she sighed. Forrest thought that this was a good thing, that she would give in and tell him.

‘I cut it with a knife, when I was eating.’

‘Mmhm.’

That was not the answer Forrest was hoping for. Martha knew it was useless at that point. If she was going to use the alibi at any point in the day, it should’ve been first thing in the morning. She had let the atmosphere between her and Forrest sour, there was no chance in being able to get away with her excuse.

Forrest’s grumble signalled to Martha that she had no chance. Their faces were inches from each other’s, their bodies were even closer, Martha couldn’t hold a lie with that kind of intimacy, but she tried anyway.

‘Believe me, Forrest.’

Those words, those soft, pleading words made Forrest stop breathing for just a moment. The desperation in Martha’s voice made Forrest want to believe her, she was begging him to, but he couldn’t.

The day had been a series of abnormalities for Forrest. He was the first out of him and Martha to give in during the morning stand-off, and he was the first to speak between them at the end of the day. Martha had proved that she could be as stubborn as he could, but, Forrest guessed, Martha had more to lose. Another feeling betrayed Forrest as he remained achingly close to Martha. He let himself give in just once more. Three time’s a charm, Forrest thought.

Forrest brought his right hand up, and let it rest on Martha’s cheek. With his thumb, he gently brushed over the wound. Martha froze when Forrest started moving, not knowing what his intentions were, but when she felt Forrest’s tender touch, she melted, closing her eyes in pleasure. To encourage Forrest further, Martha leant her head into him, the feeling of his warm skin was welcoming.

Forrest kept his eyes strictly on Martha. Anything could’ve happened around them, the most bizarre things, but he wouldn’t have torn his eyes from her. Watching Martha lean into his touch and accept the intimacy, they were all signs for him, signs that they were thinking the same thing. In the heated moment, Forrest felt a grumble of frustration in the back of his throat, but it was barely audible for Martha to hear.

Their moment was shattered when they heard a noise from inside the Station, Martha moved her head up, and brushed passed Forrest to get into the car. Like a gentleman, Forrest closed the door behind her, and walked around to the driver’s seat to begin the journey back.

The tension was rife, neither one of them said anything during the short journey back, both being as stubborn as the other. The same thought was running through their heads, who was going to be the first one to give in this time?

When Forrest pulled up in front of Martha’s house, he remained quiet. Usually, he would give a polite goodbye, but he didn’t want to say those words that time.

Martha decided that it was her time to make the first move, to save Forrest from tarnishing his reputation once again.

‘Forrest …’

‘Martha,’ Forrest interrupted, he seemed desperate to be able to speak, ‘I’m sorry if I … was out of line …’

‘No.’

Martha reached her arm out to instinctively touch Forrest. Forrest felt as if her hand was burning his forearm. From the feeling of being touched, Forrest’s hold on the steering wheel tightened, and this was something Martha had noticed.

The distance that Martha and Forrest had experienced all day was no longer present, and Martha felt encouraged by what had transpired before the ride home. With her hand on Forrest’s forearm, she moved it against him slowly, up to his right hand, the one gripping for dear life on the wheel. With the pressure he was putting on it, Martha thought that she’d have to pry it off with strength, but Forrest let her take his hand. She brought it over to her body, holding it just in front of her body.

Forrest had moved his gaze from his tight hands over to Martha, who was giving him a soft, pleading look.

‘Forrest, would it be forward of me to want you to hold me again, like you did before?’

‘Mmhm.’

Martha almost laughed at the sound of Forrest grumbling. She was learning the difference between them, and in that moment, his grumble meant he was thinking the same as Martha, but he didn’t move, he was waiting for Martha to take control.

There was another stand-off between them, but Martha wasn’t going to wait around forever. Moving her own hand up, she brought Forrest’s large, warm hand to her cheek, and he took over from there, leaving Martha to cling onto his arm. He brought it close like before, feeling her hair with the pads of his fingers, and Martha’s flushed cheeks were hot against his skin. Like it was instinctual, Martha’s eyes closed in the feeling of having Forrest touch her. Forrest couldn’t help himself any longer, and there was no point trying to fight it anymore.

‘Martha …’

At the sound of her name being spoken, the word dripping out of Forrest’s lips in a sultry tone, Martha opened her eyes. She watched Forrest bring his other hand from the wheel, and slipped it into Martha’s free hand. All the while, Forrest held his gaze on the cut on her face. To urge Forrest on, Martha let her tongue slide over her lips, she watched as Forrest’s eyes lit up, and for good measure, Martha pulled at them with her teeth, giving him an obvious and desperate sign to lean in.

Forrest needed no more encouragement. He leant in slowly, he wanted to savour the moment when their lips touched for the first time. The moment was chaste, Forrest let his lips just brush over Martha’s, feeling the shortened breath she was emitting, and sensing her buck a little in her seat to get closer. After their soft touch, Forrest didn’t hold back. He brought himself down harder, deepening the connection between them. It was like they couldn’t get enough of each other, but were shy in their excitement.

Martha was helpless in Forrest’s arms, and let out small whimpers of pleasure, which was matched by the grumble in Forrest’s throat. Their lips had to part for air, just for a moment, and to Forrest’s surprise, Martha put a hand on Forrest face, her soft fingers tracing the sides of his face, and her thumb just hit the edge of his scar.

When they kissed again, the intimacy grew, they had both been waiting so long for the moment, and Martha let herself enjoy it. A moan escaped her reddened lips, sore from the pawing and nipping, and Forrest let out a shaky sigh. He felt the moan vibrate through his body, his entire body, and moved his grip quickly from Martha’s hand to her waist, using his strength to pull her closer to his own body. Forrest would’ve carried on until Martha was crying his own name, but the porch light flicked on, and the frenzied moment ended.

It was only their uneven breaths that could be heard, their touch remained in place, all apart from their lips which had parted in the shock. The evening had to end, Ray would’ve come out to see what was going on otherwise, and, with great hesitation from them both, they separated.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Forrest.’

Martha could see the smile that appeared on Forrest’s lips, it must’ve been one of the first he had given her.

‘Likewise, Martha.’

Martha matched Forrest, and gave him a smile back, she was feeling elated. She went to grab the handle of the door, but was stopped from Forrest’s hand latching onto her arm. She turned around, and Forrest leant in to kiss her once again.

It was more of a goodbye kiss, one that Forrest was happy to place on Martha’s lips. They parted properly the second time, and Forrest watched Martha as she walked up to her house. When she reached the door, she looked back once, then disappeared inside.


	12. Morning Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

The feeling of Forrest’s lips against her own stayed with Martha all night. She ran her hands over them, marking out where Forrest had reached with his lips, and briefly his tongue, and Martha laughed quietly at the thought.

It wasn’t Martha’s first kiss, but it was the most passionate. There was James, who lived just a block from her house back in Washington. He was one of the kids she’d hang out with when playing with her friends, and they ended up becoming good friends when they walked home from school together. Circumstances had it that they ended up going steady with each other. The relationship was meaningful to both of them, it was the first time they’d both experienced something like that, but Martha knew there was a difference the second time around.

James had been the same age as her, and they’d been as thick as thieves and slowly moved into a relationship. He was naive like her, and when they kissed for the first time, it was exciting because it was new. With Forrest, who was a decade older than Martha, their kiss had been marked with passion and desperation, they knew what they wanted from each other.

Over the past year, Martha had been through so much that her demeanour had changed, she was not the same person anymore. Through the changes, Martha had become stubborn and private, there were secrets she kept, and scars she was trying to hide, but with Forrest, she didn’t need to explain herself, simply because he didn’t ask her to.

Forrest’s mind was blurry from the kiss, well, it was three kisses he and Martha had shared, but he’d dropped back into reality when he thought about the split on her lip, the one he had felt on his tongue. He didn’t believe Martha’s alibi one jot, she was terrible at hiding the truth from him. Forrest had thought about several ways the busted lip could’ve occurred, and all he could think of was that someone else had definitely done it to her, but who? Between her house and the Station, Martha didn’t speak to anyone but him, his brother’s, Cricket, Ray, and Stan, the farmhand. By process of elimination, Forrest knew that it wasn’t Howard or Jack, and Cricket would’ve never touched her, for he worshipped the ground she walked on. That left Ray and Stan. Forrest was friendly with Ray, he bought shine from them and let them have a still on his land, Forrest knew him to be a good man, surely, he would never lay a hand on Martha?

Forrest had only met Stan once, he joined Ray to go to the feed stores in town one time. He and Ray got chatting while Stan filled the car up. Ray introduced Stan to him, Forrest only gave him a curt nod, that’s all he offered strangers, and never thought about him again until that moment. It would be a risky move to talk to Martha about it, but if he was right, she’d give in and tell him the truth. That’s what he hoped anyway.

* * *

 

Martha caught herself smiling on the way into the station, it was hard to downplay the excitement she felt about seeing Forrest again. That excitement could’ve led to Martha acting out, and she thought that Forrest would not appreciate her jumping his bones as a greeting. She knew she had to restrain herself when she first saw him that morning, no matter what her instincts were telling her to do.

There was no one on the porch when Martha arrived, but she heard voices from the stores behind the Station. The mesh door was open, so she grabbed Forrest’s mug before letting herself in. The coffee was down to the dregs, Martha thought to make Forrest a fresh cup. When Martha was preparing the coffee, the voices that were heard from the stores came around the Station, and she eventually saw the Bondurant brothers and Danny walking up to the porch. Martha hadn’t paid much attention to what they were talking about to begin with, the business didn’t bother her, nor did it grab her interests.

‘Where’s my damn mug?’

Martha heard Forrest address the other men, and she smirked. The three men looked at each other, each as confused as the other. Forrest opened the door first, and led the way in, none of the others had said a word.

‘It can’t have grown legs and walked off?’ Forrest grumbled, turning back to address the men. The three looked at dumb-founded as the other, but Forrest was losing their interest, they just mumbled nonsense as a reply, which didn’t help him.

‘It’s here.’

The four men looked over to Martha behind the counter. Martha placed Forrest’s mug on top of the counter, and waited for Forrest to take it. She had shut them all up, even Forrest.

Forrest pursed his lips, and looked from the cup of coffee, back to Martha. He didn’t want to look back to his brothers, they would’ve found the situation amusing. If his brothers didn’t, Martha already saw the funny side. She was trying to hide her smirk, but she didn’t succeed, not with Forrest’s gaze on her.

The floorboards creaked as Forrest paced towards the counter, almost in a mocking manner.

‘Thank you.’

Forrest took the mug and walked over to his office. Martha smiled at Howard, Jack and Danny as they approached the counter, neither of them said anything about Forrest, but it was clear they all thought the same thing.

‘You boys had breakfast?’ Martha asked.

‘Nah, we been shifting crates all morning.’ Howard spoke for all three of them, and he looked eagerly towards Martha.

‘How does eggs, bacon and waffles sound?’

The tree men hooted like animals for Martha, which made her laugh. They all waited patiently and made idle talk as Martha cooked breakfast. Howard was good for a laugh when he wasn’t hungover, but she had a feeling that he was still drunk, and she thought the same for Danny. Jack, on the other hand, had been flying high since his first meeting with Floyd Banner.

Martha didn’t know much about the moonshine business the Bondurant’s ran, Forrest never let her in on something that may affect her outside of work. He did it so Rakes couldn’t get at her, but Martha just thought Forrest was being discreet. All that Martha needed to know was that when the men came in asking for shine or applebrandy, she was to go to one of the brothers, and they’d deal with it. Martha never complained about not knowing more, it wasn’t her business to know.

Once Howard, Jack and Danny were tucking into their breakfast, Martha fixed up Forrest a plate. She assumed that he was saving face by not coming out for his breakfast, but Martha didn’t mind.

When she reached the door, she knocked, and heard Forrest calling her in.

‘Morning Forrest.’ Martha sung sweetly. Forrest leant back in his chair and moved some books to make room for the plate.

‘Thank you, Martha.’ Forrest looked up to give Martha a smile.

‘You’re welcome. And, am I to assume that you’ll leave me with a goodnight kiss every time you drop me home after my shift?’

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest was resting his right arm on the armrest of his chair, and took a moment to rub his hand over his mouth, as if in contemplation. With his head resting on his hand, Forrest looked back up to Martha, with, what only could be described as, a playful expression. Well, playful for Forrest.

‘What would you say to a good morning kiss?’ Martha bit her lip anxiously, preparing herself for Forrest’s answer. She watched as he rubbed his hand over his face again, then he pushed his chair back to stand up. Forrest puffed out his chest, the playful look on his face had gone, he had his regular blank look, just to confuse Martha for a moment longer.

‘I’d say come here, darlin’.’

Martha couldn’t help but smile, and Forrest took Martha into his hands and leant in for a kiss, their morning kiss. Forrest tried something new that morning, as soon as they connected, he pulled back to see Martha’s reaction. She was confused, but didn’t wait any longer for Forrest to bring his lips to hers, she wrapped her arms around his large shoulders and melted into his body.

Obviously, Forrest and Martha had spent too long in the office, and they heard shouting and hollering from the men outside. Forrest growled into the kiss, which only made Martha giggle.


	13. Cold Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

Forrest didn’t bother Martha about her busted lip from then on, he still didn’t believe her, but he knew it would make her upset if he brought it up again. The day Martha and Forrest didn’t talk was only a blip in their timeline, from the morning after, when they were to greet each other with a kiss as was their new ritual, their relationship strengthened, and they weren’t interested in putting up barriers between each other. The day, for Forrest, was spent sat out in Station, looking over his books, but most importantly, looking over at Martha. She’d be happy to catch his eye from time to time, and she’d give him a dazzling smile to boot. Forrest didn’t want to express much happiness when surrounded by his custom, that wouldn’t have done any good for his reputation. Martha knew that, and didn’t mind if her smile wasn’t returned.

There were times when Forrest had to make deliveries of their stock, but he made sure that Jack was around when that happened, he drummed into him that Martha wasn’t to be left alone for a moment. Jack understood this well enough, and did as he was told. For good measure, Jack would sometimes take Martha out for a drive in his new car, one that Forrest had sneered at when he first saw it gleaming down the drive to the Station.

With the business doing better than ever due to Banner’s connection in Chicago, they were up to their necks in money, and Jack put his commission into a new car and new suits, to better his outward appearance for anyone who cared. Forrest was not so frivolous in his own spending, and if he had it his way, all of the money would be put somewhere safe, there was no need in buying fancy new anything’s when they had what they needed at the Station.

For Martha, things couldn’t be better as well, but like before, the only thing she still worried about was Stan. After the day he hit her, Stan wasn’t meeting Martha at the porch to join her in the walk down the drive. Instead, and Martha thought it was worse, he’d come by the front of the house and just watch her. He didn’t call out to her, he didn’t move from his spot, and when Martha would look behind to see him, he was just staring at her. Martha thought about asking Forrest to pick her up in the mornings, it would be putting him out of his way, but she thought she preferred the idea. That did mean, however, she’d have to end up telling him about why she wanted picking up, and Lord knew that Forrest was going to hound her until he got his answers. If she had to tell Forrest about Stan, Forrest would likely beat him up, or worse, and her Poppa couldn’t be working the farm on his own.

Martha would think that through every morning, the feeling of Stan watching her leave made her want Forrest to save her, but she’d come to the same conclusion every time, which was that she would continue to walk to work, for her Poppa’s sake. It was late in May, the day hadn’t been too busy, and Forrest had come over to the counter at the Station to tell Martha to close things up. It had only gone six in the evening, but Forrest didn’t think it was worth staying open late, there were runs to make, and he didn’t want to be up late driving around.

The sun was still warm in the sky, but it was lowering quickly. Like usual, Forrest waited by the car, holding the passenger door open for Martha to get in to. Since there was no one around, they didn’t mind getting friendly with each other.

They made idle chit chat on the way back, Martha asked about the run they were to make, but Forrest changed the subject to talk about how she should start baking pies to sell at the Station. Martha rolled her eyes, but agreed with him, then they talked through what kind of pies she should make. Forrest could sometimes be subtle about things if he made the effort, but there was no denying that he didn’t want Martha knowing any more than necessary relating to the business.

It wasn’t the usual time when Martha would get back from work, so it would’ve been nice, Martha thought, to see the sun set from the back porch, she thought that she might’ve gotten a book out and sat quietly with her Poppa.

When they pulled up to the house, Martha noticed a change at the front. Her Poppa’s car was usually parked over by the sheds to the side, but it was gone. It was still early, so Martha guessed that her Poppa was still in town, running errands or speaking to friends. Not only was her Poppa’s car gone, but Stan’s truck was parked up. Martha never had to deal with Stan in the evenings, he left around seven, and she would usually make it home after ten.

Martha didn’t realise that Forrest had stopped the car, she was too busy staring out to Stan’s truck.

‘Martha?’

Martha blinked to refocus her eyes, and she looked over to Forrest. He expression was light at first, but it slowly turned dark at the anxious look on Martha’s face.

‘We can’t sit here all night.’ Forrest said, trying to make light of the situation. He couldn’t figure out what had changed within her so quickly.

Martha only breathed a laugh at his comment, and steeled herself, getting ready to leave the car.

‘Is it anything I need to worry about?’

‘Oh, no, Forrest, don’t worry about me.’

Despite Martha saying her words as casually as she could, she did nothing but unease Forrest more. Martha had almost forgotten herself in her hesitation to leave the car. For the past week, when Forrest had dropped Martha off at home, they parted with a kiss, one that would usually last them the night, until the next morning when they’d greet each other with a kiss. Martha almost forgot about it, but remembered before she stepped out of the car.

Martha made sure to compensate for her odd behaviour by deepening the kiss with Forrest, trying to make him forgot about how she was acting, and rather on the intimacy between them. She thought it had done the trick, and gave Forrest a dazzling smile as she left the car. Martha remembered to look back when she got to the porch, and for an extra measure, she waved at him. Forrest put his hand up in acknowledgement, and waited till Martha shut the front door behind her.

When the sound of Forrest’s car driving away couldn’t be heard anymore, Martha started to panic. She was alone, in the house, with Stan around. He would’ve heard her come home, he may have even snuck around to the front to see her, she hadn’t checked. There was a feeling in Martha’s bones, and it made her feel sick. From the front door, she could see straight through the hallway and to the kitchen, the back door was in her eye line. Eyeing up the back door felt like a recipe for trouble, so Martha sprinted up the stairs, like she used to when she was a kid and thought a demon was trying to get her as she went to bed.

There was no lock on her bedroom door, but Martha remembered about the revolver in her purse. When Martha got home from a day at work, she’d take her purse upstairs and hide it in her cupboard, but that routine wasn’t to be carried out that day. She took it out, Forrest had replaced the bullets she had used the night he was attacked, so she had six rounds to use on Stan. Hopefully, Martha thought, it wouldn’t have to come to that, the threat of the gun should’ve been enough to ward Stan off if he decided to seek her out.

Martha had planned to wait in her room until her Poppa got home, she closed her curtains so Stan wouldn’t see her pacing around. Her nerves were shot, so she began to tidy things. The gun was placed on her bedside table, and she stayed on the far side of the room, her bed was splitting the middle up, like it would block Stan from coming closer. That’s how Martha was thinking in her frenzied state, her mind felt as if it was on fire. Since Martha didn’t have many possessions, she ended up cleaning things that weren’t dirty, or tidying objects that were already tidy, she couldn’t stop moving for more than a minute.

Then Martha’s heart jumped into her throat. A foot came crashing down on her door, and it flung open, revealing Stan behind it. He must’ve taken his time in climbing the stairs, Martha’s senses were heightened and she hadn’t heard a thing. Martha looked from Stan, then to her gun on the bedside table, and almost tripped over her feet to grab it. Stan wasn’t bothered by it, not like Martha had imagined, he just strolled into her room like he owned the place.

‘Ah shit, little Martha got herself a toy gun!’ He mocked, a grin appeared on his face. Martha held the gun in both hands, and tried to steady herself, but she wasn’t confident the second time around, she couldn’t pull the trigger on him.

Martha kept the gun pointed towards Stan as he made his way casually into her room, and around her bed to stand in front of her. All the while, her arms shook, which made Stan smile even more, his yellow teeth appearing from behind his dry grin.

‘Whatchu gunna do, shoot me right here?’ Stan pointed to his chest, to where his heart was. If Martha had pulled the trigger then, the bullet would’ve gone straight into his chest, but she could only stare at Stan with wide, panicked eyes.

‘Or are you gunna shoot me here?’ Stan moved his finger to point at his head. There was no fear from Stan, he knew she wouldn’t shoot, and because of this, he got cocky and walked the few steps to stand in front of Martha. He had gotten so close to her that the gun was touching his chest.

‘You ain’t got the grit, you’re a fuckin’ woman, you can’t shoot me. If I’m shot, your granddaddy won’t have anyone to work for him. He’d be real mad at ‘chu.’ Stan spat his words at Martha, he grinned at the sight of her realising that he was right in every word, she knew she couldn’t shoot him.

Martha couldn’t move, her body was frozen, her arms had locked with the gun still held out towards Stan. Although his words frightened her, she couldn’t move away, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, in fear of what he might’ve done.

‘Give me it.’ He hissed, sounding more violent with every word. There was no way in hell that Martha was going to give Stan the gun, it was the only thing between her and him, the only thing she had left to protect herself.

Stan reached up to grab the barrel of the gun, thinking that Martha was close to giving up, but when he tried to yank it from her, she ended up going with it, she had deadlocked her hands on it.

‘You fuckin’ bitch, give me the gun!’

There was nowhere for Martha to go, but in the panic of being shouted at, she tried to step backwards. Stan let go of the barrel of the gun, and put his hands on her upper arms, holding her still with a vice-like grip. Tears were rolling down her eyes and no sound came from her mouth, Stan was sure that she had given in, but for good measure, her shook her body viciously, thinking it would be the best thing to release the gun from her hands. When Martha tried to move away, in any which way she could, Stan finally snapped. He was holding her like a ragdoll, he lifted her easily, and he moved back a step with her in his hands. He gave her one more shake, but the gun remained in her grip. In immense frustration, Stan brought her up to drop her, letting her land on the side of her bed.

The wooden frame collided with Martha’s side with a bang. She let out a pained wail, her side was shrieking with immediate pain, but she didn’t get a chance to fall to the floor. As soon as she came into contact with the bed, Stan brought her up once again, his dirty nails digging into her arms.

‘You’re gunna fuckin’ regret this.’

Stan did the same as before, he wanted to slam Martha back down on the side of her bed. This time, however, Martha was prepared for the impact, and put her right hand out to brace herself. She underestimated Stan’s strength, and when he slammed her down, her hand caught the side of the wooden panel and a sharp, searing pain ran up her arm. With the throbbing from her rib, and a new-found agony from her arm, Martha let the gun slide from her grip, it fell onto the floor with a clunk.

Martha’s vision was blurry, she tried to bring her left arm to hold her aching rib, but she also wanted to grab onto her arm, there was no moment for her to process that she had been picked up once again. Stan had grabbed Martha underneath her arms, he had picked her up like a child and threw her on the bed.

With the collision on her mattress, Martha howled and cried in pain, tears now tainted her vision, and she was choking on sobs.

Stan had rested a foot on the bed frame, and watched as Martha was stirring, gripping at her side. She eventually moved her head up to look at him, and he gave her another wide grin, and his hands went to the buckle of his belt.

Martha could finally see what was happening, but there was no strength in her to fight back. Her eyes trailed down to Stan’s hands, but they had stopped moving. To make sense of what was happening, Martha looked back up to his face, Stan’s grin had disappeared, and it all made sense when Martha heard a car door slam from outside. Her Poppa had come home, home in time to save Martha’s skin. Stan sneered, and looked down to Martha. He brought his body down to hers, Martha could smell his rank breath.

‘I had to piss, that’s whatchu tell him.’

Then Stan left the room. Martha heard the bathroom door open, and Stan took the liberty of flushing the toilet, to further construct his own alibi.

Martha stayed still on her bed for a while, her nerves had to calm, as did her heart. Sweat was plastering her dress to her body, and she daren’t to think about her arm or rib. When she did manage to get herself to sit up, it ended up being that just breathing was enough to hurt her. She tried to bring her right hand up to her face, to wipe the stands of hair from her forehead, but she couldn’t. An instant pain shot up her arm, and she seethed out loud. It wasn’t clear what was wrong, the impact could’ve broken her arm, but Martha wasn’t sure.

Martha looked up from her injuries to the state of her room. The things on her bedside table had been knocked to the floor, so she moved forward to tidy everything up. This took longer than expected, Martha couldn’t move her right arm without there being any pain, she had to use her left hand exclusively.

Once her bedside table was back to normal, Martha stood up. She barely moved her foot, and a clunk came from the floor. She looked down and saw the gun where she’d dropped it. Using her left hand, Martha picked it up. The hammer wasn’t even cocked, she cursed herself her not using it. Her Poppa could’ve turned up five minutes later, then she would’ve been sorry in not using it. It was a task to try at get the gun back in her purse. The purse had to go away in her cupboard, she couldn’t have her Poppa finding it, of all the days.

Martha heard her Poppa moving around downstairs, whistling to himself, and her heart clenched. She made her way over to the mirror, and her heart almost burst. She looked a state, and she was not going to let her Poppa see her in such a way. He couldn’t know about what Stan did, he’d be so upset, but how long could she keep it to herself? Her arm was as straight as a board, there was no chance in making it seem normal. Then there was her rib, taking a deep breath caused her so much pain, and Martha could do nothing but sigh at her predicament.

With her left hand, Martha took her hair brush to try and neaten out her hair as much as she could. She wiped her eyes with a tissue and blew her nose for good measure. There was nothing to do about the sheen of sweat that covered the rest of her body, she needed a thorough wash, but she’d have to figure that out later.

Thoughts raced through her mind about how to get away with everything, but then she heard footsteps coming up the stairs, accompanied with a cheerful whistle. Martha tried to breath in to ready herself, but caught herself short and choked out a pained grunt, she had to remember that her chest wasn’t working.

The knock at the door made Martha get up uneasily. She hid her right arm from view, and opened the door.

‘Stan said you came home early, which is good, cos I got us some steaks …’ Ray trailed off when he settled on Martha’s rough expression, and he cocked his head. ‘You alright? You don’t look too well.’

‘I don’t know, I feel a little faint.’

Martha had gotten away with it before, and she was going to do it again. Her Poppa was gullible at the best of times, but he pushed his worry.

‘Is that so? I saw Stan comin’ down the stairs, he said you’d come home early. Did you know he was up here?’

There was an accusation in her Poppa’s tone, but Martha didn’t miss a beat.

‘Oh, uh, I heard the toilet go.’

Her Poppa looked Martha up and down, then shrugged. ‘Alright, just me askin’, bein’ silly. Do you still want dinner?’

‘Uh, I’m just gunna lie down for a while, then see how I feel. It’s the heat Poppa, your city gal can’t handle it.’

Martha had to make a joke, she had to make light of the situation. It did enough to put a smirk on her Poppa’s face and give her a sweet kiss on her forehead, then he left her in peace. Martha wished, just for once, her Poppa would pester her for more, so she didn’t feel like she had to hide everything.


	14. Sweating Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

There was no rest for Martha that night. She couldn’t bare getting up for dinner, there was no way she could hide the pain, her arm was locked down her side and any movement would make her wince and whimper. Her Poppa had called up to her for dinner, she had to shout down to say that she wasn’t hungry, but the reality was that she was starving. Her tummy grumbled into the evening, Martha tried to help herself by sleeping the feeling off, but the pain was too intense, from her arm, her rib and her stomach.

It was late into the night, Martha kept checking her clock every five minutes, and soon enough, her Poppa came up the stairs to go to bed. There was a creaking by her door first, and Martha turned her head to the right to look away from it. When the door knob turned, Martha held her breath and closed her eyes. It was sweet of her Poppa to check on her, and in any other situation Martha would’ve appreciated the care he was showing.

Martha tried her hardest to stay still, to pretend that she was asleep, and it seemed to work, her Poppa closed the door as slowly as he had opened it, then left to go to his room. Martha waited another thirty minutes, making sure that her Poppa had definitely gone to sleep, and got up.

Getting up from her bed was a lot harder than Martha imagined. She removed the sheet from the bed, it was easy to do with her left hand. Stupidly, she had kept on her dress from the day, it was warming her body uncomfortably, and she had to take it off. With her left hand, she undid the buttons down the front, and willed herself to bring it over her head. She was surprised that her cries of pain weren’t louder, she managed to turn everything into a sharp gasp instead of a wail. The dress eventually came off, but not without a struggle. Luckily, Martha’s nightwear was easier to get on. It was only a silk romper-style piece, something that came in handy when the heat from the day was still lingering in the evening air, it kept her cool. It was sleeveless, so she didn’t have to worry about bending her arm awkwardly.

Once Martha was dressed, as appropriately as she could be from the pain, she crept out of her door and tiptoed down the stairs. The house was not too old, but the floorboards were awful, there was no chance Martha could make it downstairs without making a sound. There were only three steps that created a loud creaking sound, and Martha took the liberty of stopping after every one, trying to listen out to her Poppa.

Martha’s tummy was giving the game away, it was louder than the groaning floorboards. The first thing Martha caught eyes on when she opened the fridge door was the cold cuts of ham, she didn’t bother with a plate, nor a fork, and went straight in. She stood like a pig, picking up one cut after the other, then she spotted the half-eaten pecan pie. Martha was decent enough to get a fork to eat the pie, she took it out of the fridge and placed it on the table, and went back to grab the bottle of milk. With only her left hand, she took two or three bites of pie, then she gulped down long sips of the cold milk. Martha had demolished three servings of the pie, then put it back in the fridge. On the same shelf as the dessert, there was a bowl of peaches, and Martha took out two. They were gone within a few minutes, then she went for a third for good measure.

Martha’s tummy was no longer aching, but the pain was still constant in her arm and rib. After cleaning everything up and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, Martha took a dish cloth from a drawer and laid it out on the counter beside the fridge. The process of taking ice from the fridge with one hand was long, the fridge door kept shutting on her, the ice was freezing on her hands, but Martha managed to make a cold press for her arm. She double checked everything before she went back upstairs, making sure her midnight feast hadn’t left any evidence.

It was much nicer to lie down with her nightwear on instead of a thick dress. The makeshift press rested on her arm and her rib and the same time, and she tried to get some sleep.

The morning was dreadful, Martha had to open all her windows to account for the stuffiness in her room. The cold press had completely melted in the night, there was a wet patch on her romper, and on the bed. It looked as if she had wet herself during the night, so placed her blanket over it, in case her Poppa had a reason to come in and got suspicious.

Martha’s usual morning routine didn’t last longer than half an hour on a good day, she’d sleep in till late if she wanted to, and still managed to get to the station for nine. When Martha got to the bathroom, she filled the sink with mostly cold water, since the sweats had already set in. She wiped the compress all over her body, and seethed when she came into contact with her injuries. This process took almost as twice as long than normal, Martha was right handed, and couldn’t get all the angles right with her left hand.

The next problem was her hair. It still remained in a braid from the previous day, but it was a mess, she had been attacked and she had slept in it, but Martha had to leave it, at least it was tucked away and out of her face.

Martha went back into her room, and was thankful for the great breeze that she felt against her body, it cooled her instantly. With great difficulty, Martha managed to put on her underwear, but then came to the task of her dress. In the morning light, she couldn’t help but see the damage that Stan had inflicted. There were dark marks and breaks in the skin on her upper arms, from where he had grabbed her, but they weren’t the one thing to worry about. The bruise on her ribs wasn’t that bad either, compared to the gross swelling of her right arm. When she put both arms in front of her, the size difference was obvious, and Martha’s brows creased with worry. She told herself that if it was still as ugly at the end of her shift, she’d give in and go to the hospital. There was no chance of going before her shift, since she was already running late, Martha had cursed at herself when she checked her clock.

The dresses were folded neatly in her cupboard draw, and Martha panicked. None of her dresses had sleeves, which would mean there would be less trouble when putting it on, but with short sleeves, the bruises and swelling were painfully obvious to anyone who had a set of eyes.

A sigh left Martha’s mouth, but she soldiered on. The dress was like the one before, it had buttons down the front, but she had to put it over her head, since the waist was cinched. The skirt part of the dress got tangled and caught, her arm was screaming at her to stop moving. Then the buttons were a mountain, buttons were easier to pull apart with one hand, but a heady task to put them together. Martha put on her plimsolls rather than her work shoes, the laces were already tied so she could just slip her feet into them with no fuss.

With her disgusting arm poking out of the dress sleeve, Martha knew that Forrest would’ve noticed straight away. She hated the thought, but she had to put on a cardigan, to hide the injury as best as she could. The morning was heating up, the breeze that filtered through her room didn’t do much for how hot she was feeling, and the walk into work might’ve given her heat stroke, but Martha had to hide it, just till the end of the day.

Breakfast was to be the next challenge, usually her Poppa would be at the stove, cooking eggs or pancakes, but she couldn’t eat in front of him. When Martha poked her head out of her bedroom door, there was no smell coming from the kitchen, so she thought she was safe. She put her hand on the bannister to help herself down the stairs, and found herself tied. Martha could’ve left straight away, she instinctively went to check her wristwatch before realising she hadn’t put it on, simply because she couldn’t. The door was just a few paces in front of her, but her midnight feast hadn’t sated her till the morning, her tummy was hurting her again, just like the previous night.

Martha tiptoed into the kitchen, and saw that it was empty. There was no chance she’d risk being caught, so she took two slices of bread from the bread bin and set them out. With her left hand, she managed to get an even spread of butter on both slices, then slapped a cut of ham between them. Before she left, she slid the handle of her purse up her right arm to rest on her shoulder, and grabbed a peach from the fridge to put in her pocket. A ham sandwich wasn’t the most appetising breakfast to have, but when Martha took the first bite, she knew it was better than nothing.

Martha was still confused as to where her Poppa was, but when she stepped out onto porch, his car was parked to the buildings on the left. Ray must’ve been round the back, but she ended up hearing voices come closer to the car, closer to her, so instead of walking down the drive, she went into the woods instead. The woods were aligned to the drive, so there was no chance in getting lost, but also a chance of not being seen in her state.

The walk left Martha out of breath, she had to stop every other minute to slow her pulse down so she didn’t have to breath so deeply. She wished she had at least put her wristwatch in her pocket, she had no clue what the time was. With the wash, the getting dressed, the breakfast, and the delayed walk, Martha had to have been late, and Forrest would’ve berated her for it.

The thought of Forrest made Martha feel sick, she wondered if he was going to shout at her for being late, but she had never been late before. Perhaps, because it was a one off, he’d only give her a warning, and wouldn’t push it any further. The turn that led onto the drive to the Station had Martha filled with anxiety, from the distance, she would’ve been able to see the front porch, and possibly Forrest.

A long sigh escaped Martha’s lips when she saw that the porch was empty. The sigh, however, came back to bite her, and she gasped and choked from the pain in her chest.

‘It – will – be – fine.’ Martha whispered to herself. She spoke with every step on the dusty track, trying to give herself courage. ‘It – will – be – fine.’

Martha repeated those words to herself until she got to the porch steps, then she no longer felt fine. With her left hand on the wooden bannister, Martha took one step at a time. Since there was no one on the porch, she assumed that Forrest and the others were around the back. Her hearing wasn’t great, her mind was thinking about the individual steps to get herself onto the porch. If she had been listening to her surroundings, she would’ve heard the creaking footsteps getting closer to the mesh door.

When Martha reached the last step, her hand went to her rib to hold it, the set of steps felt like she had climbed a mountain. She looked up to the door, and froze.

The sun was shining in the direction of the front porch, and it was easy to see Forrest’s figure behind the mesh. He was glaring at her, eyes narrowing and mind whirring. Martha had stopped a few paces short of the door, and she couldn’t move. Forrest had come to see Martha in, to ask why she was half an hour late, but he watched her climb the porch steps unsteadily, and he knew that something was wrong. The look on her face had made his suspicions worse, she looked like a deer caught in headlights. Forrest wondered if Martha had an alibi the second time around, and if it was as flimsy as the last.

The stand-off didn’t last long, Forrest pushed the door and then used his body to prop it open. No words were shared between them both, and Forrest kept his questioning gaze on Martha as she shifted unsteadily on her feet. Her eyes tried to keep from Forrest, but her nerves were setting in, and she was giving the game away so obviously.

Forrest followed her inside, and went to put his things on the table again, so he could watch Martha work. He was perceptive, and immediately noticed that Martha was only using one hand to do everything. She used her left hand to pour coffee, to wipe down surfaces, to cook the food and to serve the plates, it took her twice as long to get orders out to people. A sheen on sweat had appeared on her flushed face, the cardigan was making her hot and uncomfortable, but she didn’t remove it.

The most triggering thing to watch was when Martha had tried to use her right arm, she winced at the motion, and Forrest was losing his patience.

‘Jack?’ Martha said, not making eye contact.

‘Yeah?’ He replied.

‘Can you … can you take over? I need to …’ Martha couldn’t even finish her sentence before pushing the swinging half door to get from behind the counter. Jack had no choice but to take over, and he gave a worrying look to Forrest, who had watched Martha hurry into the bathroom.

Martha turned on the cold tap and splashed herself liberally, water getting on her face and on the back of her neck. Making the breakfast, and wearing the cardigan, it made Martha feel faint, she thought she was going to pass out on the main floor. Then there was the feeling of bile rising in her throat, she had gone to use her right arm a few times, which was a big mistake. She knew that she hadn’t done a good job of hiding the pain, Forrest had been watching her every move, and he never missed a trick.

Martha wondered how long she would be able to keep it up, if she would be able to get away with the whole day, but the thought of having to go back out behind the counter made tears roll down her hot cheeks.

The water she splashed against her face again hid the tear stains, but she still looked a mess. Martha unlocked the door slowly, and stepped out. The first place she looked was to Forrest’s table, but he was no longer there, and Martha had to make that mean a good thing, he would no longer be watching at her, judging her.

Jack was waiting for her to come back, and before she could get behind the counter, he stopped her.

‘Martha, Forrest wants you in his office.’

Martha turned to look at the office door, ignoring the curious look on Jack’s face. This was it, Martha thought, and admitted to herself that she wanted it to happen, but she’d tell him on her own terms.

With her left hand, she knocked on the door.

‘Come in.’

Forrest was standing by his desk, hands linked behind his back. He had to think about how to approach the subject, and although he felt angry, he wasn’t going to blame Martha for anything.

‘Take a seat, Martha.’

The wretched look on Martha’s face saddened him, but he had to take it as encouragement as well, in her state, she wouldn’t think to hide any secrets from him. With puppy-like eyes, Martha didn’t break eye contact as she did as she was told. She waited for him to initiate the conversation.

‘Martha.’

It wasn’t a question, and he already had her attention, Forrest just wanted to ease Martha into the conversation.

‘Martha, take off your cardigan.’

To Forrest’s surprise, Martha didn’t protest, and stood up from the seat. She tried to make it seem easy, to make it seem like she wasn’t hurt, there was a desperation to cling onto any kind of alibi, but there was no lying to Forrest anymore.

Martha had barely removed half a sleeve of her cardigan, and Forrest had seen enough.

‘Alright.’ He grumbled. Forrest took a step forward to stop her from the struggle, and grabbed her right arm. This was a big mistake, Martha cried out and instinctively gripped at the front of Forrest’s shirt, as if to push him away.

Forrest froze for a second, he didn’t expect for Martha to react with a whimper, and his concern grew. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, Martha knew that there was no way out of the situation, and she waited with pleading eyes for Forrest to speak.

Forrest didn’t say anything as he helped Martha take her cardigan off. He was as gentle as he could be, and she was patient. Once the cardigan was off, Martha lowered her head in shame and sat back down on the chair. Forrest took one look at her arm and felt his chest seize up. He continued to remain silent as he knelt before her, and with great care, he lifted her grossly swollen arm into his hands.

‘I don’t think it’s broken, but, uh, maybe something’s happened to the bone, I’m not sure.’ Martha wasn’t fighting anymore, she wanted help from Forrest, she wanted him to look after her and make her well again.

Forrest looked once into Martha’s eyes, seeing the tears that were forming in her eyes made him swallow thickly, then he moved his gaze back to her arm. He hadn’t realised the first time he observed the injury, that there were a few bruises dotted around her upper arm, and the same on her left arm. He bore his gaze into them, hardly believing that they were there, that Martha had tried to hide everything, and pretend that she was fine.

‘Anything else?’

Martha had been desperate for Forrest to speak; the absence of his words was worse than him shouting at her.

‘My … a rib perhaps, it hurts to breath …’

Despite having Martha weak and needy in front of him, Forrest couldn’t help but feel the anger boiling inside of his body. To see her so destroyed in front of him made him want to growl out of frustration, there were no more lies that she was keeping, she had laid her cards out on the table, and he had to react.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grumbled, but in truth, he felt like flipping the desk and punching the wall. He remained composed as he rose to his feet, and went to leave the room.

Martha was beginning to panic, Forrest had a glazed looked in his eye that meant trouble. She leapt to her feet and grabbed Forrest’s arm with her left hand.

‘Forrest, please, don’t do what I think you’re gunna do, please.’ Martha’s voice had become stronger as the dread set in, she looked to Forrest with wild eyes. Forrest didn’t even have to say what he was thinking, Martha knew exactly what was running through his mind.

To have Martha so affected in front of him, begging for mercy, he was conflicted. Martha’s hand pawed at his sleeve, he wanted to do as she begged, but there was no chance, his mind was already made up.

‘My Poppa, he needs him to work on the farm, my Poppa can’t do it on his own, please, don’t do it.’

This only confirmed Forrest’s suspicions further, and he was aching to get over to Ray’s house, but he couldn’t leave Martha in a state. Before he could give her comforting words, he felt his cardigan shifting. Martha, in a hurried state, reached into both of Forrest’s pockets, and found what she was looking for. The knuckle duster was always kept close to Forrest, for his own protection, but Martha couldn’t stand the thought of him using it, and once it was in her hand, she turned to put it on the desk.

Tears were falling few and far between, Martha was over the initial pain of admitting everything to Forrest. She walked back over to Forrest who was watching by the door, but neither of them could say anything. Before Forrest exited the room, he took Martha’s head into his hands, holding her tenderly, then reached down to place a kiss on her forehead. He had to do what was necessary, he wasn’t going to let Martha suffer anymore.

When Forrest left the study, he shouted at everyone to leave. The customers grumbled at first, but Forrest glared at each and every one of them. Howard and Jack were confused at first, they looked from Forrest to Martha, who had appeared from the study.

‘Jack, you take Martha to the hospital.’ Forrest grumbled to Jack. Jack looked over to Martha, he finally saw the swollen arm she was sporting, and turned the cooker off and grabbed his keys.

Forrest gestured to Howard to follow him, and they were the first ones to leave the Station. Martha knew where they were going, and she wanted to follow to see what happened, but Jack had put a hand on Martha’s back to guide her to his car.

Jack tried to think of something comforting to say, but Martha’s eyes were still red from crying, and she looked like she could faint at any moment. Unlike with his usual drives, he made sure they drove at a safe speed, and he turned carefully around corners so no pain would arise from her arm leaning against the door.

When he parked the car at the hospital, he jogged to the other side to open the car door for Martha, which she thanked. He put his hand on her again to guide her into the hospital, and demanded that Martha was seen by a doctor straight away. The nurse wasn’t going to argue with a Bondurant, so she fetched the doctor and Martha was ushered into a small room.

Jack stayed sat in the seat opposite her as Martha was checked over, and she answered all the questions that were asked, but her mind was on other things. The thought of Forrest at her Poppa’s house, doing God-knows-what to Stan, it brewed in her mind and took over all rational thought.

‘You should’ve come in as soon as the dislocation took place.’ The doctor said. Martha didn’t bother arguing with him, since she knew he was right.

‘Can you fix it though?’ Jack asked, looking from the doctor to Martha’s arm.

‘Yeah, we can fix it. Your pulse is a little below average, which is alright considering how long you’ve been dealing with it. We’ll pop the bone back into place, but we’re going to have to sedate you for it, it’s a nasty injury to have.’ The doctor smiled at Martha, he didn’t get a lot of elbow dislocations, and seemed thrilled at the thought of treating one.

‘The rib, on the other hand,’ the doctor continued, ‘is an easier fix. We’ll give you painkillers, and you can take some home remedies. A bruised rib always heals.’

Martha was taken from one room to the other, nurses prepared her for sedation, and Martha began to panic. When she was set up in bed, she asked to see Jack.

Jack came in as he was told, a worried look was on his face, and he went to the side of the bed.

‘Is everythin’ alright?’

‘Can you stay? I don’t like hospitals.’ Martha asked, voice weak with unease. Jack let out a breathy laugh, thankful it wasn’t anything serious, and nodded his head.

‘Of course, I wouldn’t leave you.’

Martha was thankful to have Jack close by, but she couldn’t help but think that it was the wrong Bondurant brother, it was Forrest that she wanted by her side.


	15. Balmy Evenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

Martha’s head felt woozy as she came around from sedation. Her hate for hospitals only grew when she looked around her stark, white room.

‘Martha, sweetheart?’

The sound came from the blurry figure beside her. Martha knew the voice straight away, but had to blink a few times to focus her vision on her Poppa. When she finally saw his face, she could only see devastation and guilt, and Martha, in turn, felt responsible for this. She didn’t know it, but tears were sliding down her face, it was an instant reaction.

Ray took Martha’s left hand, and brought it up to his lips.

‘Martha, I cannot begin to say sorry.’ Ray sobbed. He wasn’t the one who should’ve felt guilty, but seeing his poor Martha in the hospital bed, her arm in a splint and sling, he felt like the evillest person alive.

‘It’s not your fault, Poppa.’ Martha’s voice was dry, but she forced her words out to reassure her Poppa.

‘Oh, Martha,’ Ray sighed, ‘it’s all sorted now, anyway.’

* * *

 

Ray was in the kitchen when he heard a car screeched to a halt on the drive. For a moment, he thought it might be Rakes and his cronies, and for good measure, grabbed his shotgun when he headed outside. When he saw Forrest and Howard, he was confused, he watched as they stomped up to him with scowls on their faces.

‘Everythin’ alright, Forrest?’ Ray called.

Forrest had a look in his eye, Ray knew what it was, but couldn’t figure out if he had done any wrong to warrant that kind of look.

‘Ray, is Stan out back?’

‘Yeah, he’s workin’ in the sheds. What’s he done now?’

Ray didn’t get an answer from either Forrest or Howard, they marched around the house to where Stan was, Ray was hot on their heels, gun still slung over his shoulder. Stan didn’t even see it coming. He looked up from his work, then held the pitch fork between him and the Bondurant brothers, but it was futile. Ray tried to intervene when they started beating on Stan, tried to reason with them, but Howard just shouted at him to get back. Punches and kicks attacked Stan until he lay on the floor, no longer fighting back.

Stan was still breathing, but a hand had to be placed in front of his mouth to feel the breath, otherwise he looked dead. He wasn’t recognisable anymore, he face had been flooded with blood from any possible cut, and Howard dragged him by his feet to the car. Forrest had given him orders, and then decided to stay to talk through things with Ray.

Ray was angry. Forrest and Howard had trespassed on his property and beat up his employee. It was rational of him to be angry, and Forrest let him chew him out, for a moment.

‘We have to talk, Ray.’

‘To fuckin’ right we do!’ Forrest was aware of the shotgun still in Ray’s hands, eyeing it up whenever it moved around.

‘It’s about Martha.’

Ray’s stern looks vanished.

‘What? What’s happened?’

‘Let’s go inside, Ray.’

Forrest led them both into the kitchen, he thought it was best if Ray was sitting down for what he was going to say. Ray followed blindly, and sat in the chair Forrest pulled out for him.

‘Why’s Martha involved, Forrest? Did Stan … did he …?’ Ray trailed off as haunting thoughts entered his mind. The shotgun was thrown on the table and he put his head in his hands.

‘Martha’s at the hospital, Ray. Stan did something to her arm, and possibly bruised her rib.’ Forrest was trying to be methodical in explaining the story, but it hurt to acknowledge what had happened to Martha, the fact the he didn’t protect her in time preoccupied his thoughts as well.

‘Oh God! When did this happen?’ Ray snivelled.

‘Last night.’

‘Last night? But she was … she didn’t …’

Pieces started fitting together for Ray, it was painful for Forrest to watch. He wasn’t aware of how Martha lied to Ray, she had her ways with him, but she really had pulled out all the stops to get away with something so big.

‘Do you think me awful? I had no idea.’

‘No, Ray, I don’t. Martha is a good liar, and she has you wrapped around her finger.’ Ray kept sniffing loudly, and wiped his eyes.

‘And it was that bastard?’

Forrest nodded, Ray seemed fine with Stan being beaten up after learning about what he did to Martha.

‘The thing is, Ray,’ Forrest started. Ray whipped his head to Forrest, hardly believing that there was more to the story.

‘Stan had Martha believe that he was untouchable. Martha thought that Stan was your lifeline to earning a living. That’s why she didn’t say anything to you.’

Ray’s face crumpled again, wounded at the thought that it was his doing in the first place, that he’d placed a legacy on Stan that made him untouchable.

‘Forrest, did Stan …,’ Ray took a moment to find his words, ‘how far did he …’

‘I know for a fact that he didn’t touch her … like that.’ Forrest couldn’t find the right words himself, but it was clear to Ray just what he meant.

Forrest watched as Ray took a moment for himself, he got his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away his tears. It felt awkward for Forrest, he would’ve rather have been at the hospital checking on Martha, but it wasn’t his privilege, Ray was the one who had to take her home, not him.

‘Oh God, that poor girl. She’s had such a time of it, Forrest.’

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest just watched Ray stare at the floor, waiting for him to carry on.

‘Ya know, her father, my son, killed himself. His hardware store in Washington bombed, and he shot himself. Martha came home to find him, brains all blown out, all on the walls and floor. Could you imagine?’

Forrest stopped breathing for what felt like a minute. He blinked at Ray, not believing what he was hearing. It all made sense to Forrest, why she didn’t want to use the gun, why she blanched at the sight of it, and he had treated her like a child for not doing as she was told. Shame set in, how could he have been so cruel?

‘He was my only son, they couldn’t even have the coffin open because it was such a mess. She saw him … well, at his worst. She never talks about it, I worry that she’s holding everythin’ in, it’s not good to hold stuff like that in.’

‘Mmhm.’

At the sound of Forrest’s grunt, Ray looked up to him. Forrest realised that his grunt may have sounded careless, and like he wasn’t interested in what he was saying, so he rectified it.

‘Martha has a spirit about her. She has a strength, she’d hate to burden anyone with her troubles.’ Forrest spoke from the heart, he’d hadn’t guessed he would, especially in front of Ray. He surprised himself at how easy it was to talk about Martha, there was so much more he could say, but Ray got up from his chair, and pulled Forrest from his thoughts.

‘She sure does.’ Ray put his handkerchief back in his pocket and looked down to Forrest. ‘Look, not to be unwelcomin’, but I gotta go to the hospital. Shall I drop you off at the Station on the way?’

* * *

 

Ray stayed with Martha until she woke up from her sedation, he hated seeing her in such a state. He knew, before she had even woken up, that she’d blame herself for what had happened, and would say that nothing was wrong, that was just her way. Martha could’ve gotten herself hurt to an inch of her life, and would still apologise from being an inconvenience.

On the drive home, Ray kept looking over to Martha, checking if she was alright. It got to a point where Martha started laughing, she’d notice him looking out of the corner of her eye.

‘What’s so funny?’ Ray asked, a smile appeared on his lips, but his brows creased, not knowing why she was laughing in the first place.

‘You, acting all concerned.’

‘Can’t blame me for that anymore.’

Martha appreciated the comment, it was nice to have her Poppa close again. Before she had been hiding the secret from him, and she hated it then. Now that the truth was out, Martha felt better in herself.

‘Well how’s that?’ Ray said as they car pulled into the drive. ‘I took Forrest home.’

Martha looked to the house, and saw Forrest’s car parked out front. Her chest seized up, and she automatically coughed because of it.

‘You alright?’ Ray asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘I can ask him to go.’

Martha looked over to her Poppa and smiled, she knew he was only thinking of her.

‘No, I got some questions for him.’

Forrest was still sat in his car, he had been waiting for Ray and Martha to return for a while, and he watched as they pulled up. Ray got out to open the door for Martha and it was a good a time as any to get out himself.

Martha’s right arm was in a splint, supported by a sling. It looked as if it didn’t bother her, her attention was focused on Forrest, who slowly walked up to the pair.

‘Ray, Martha. How’re you feeling?’

‘I’m alright.’ Martha looked between her Poppa and Forrest, she wasn’t going to talk to Forrest in front of him, and was hoping for some privacy. ‘Shall we sit on the porch?’

Forrest nodded, but then looked to Ray, for approval.

‘I’ll keep myself busy.’ Ray mumbled, and wandered off to the sheds.

That left Forrest to be with Martha alone, but he wasn’t brave enough to initiate contact. In truth, he wanted to touch her, kiss her, make sure she was well, but instead, he led them silently onto the porch and through the house, holding all of the doors open like a gentleman.

They sat on the porch together, in adjacent chairs, and the sun was low in the sky, it gave the pasture in front of them an orange glow.

‘Did everything turn out alright?’ Forrest said. Martha had sat back in her chair; her eyes were closed and she soaked up the sun. Forrest was leant forward, leaning in to her bad arm, giving it a once over with his gaze.

Martha kept her eyes closed as she replied. ‘It was dislocated, my elbow. They had to knock me out so they could put it back into place. I gotta keep it like this for two weeks, then I can use it again.’

‘And your rib?’

‘Bruised. They’ve given me painkillers, and they said I’m not allowed to work, and that I need rest.’

‘Mmhm.’

‘I don’t have to, I’ll come in to the Station.’

‘Not on my watch.’ Forrest was serious, but Martha just smiled at him. She moved her left hand from the armrest and held it above her lap, reaching out for Forrest to take it. He did so, and lovingly moved his thumb on her hand, that contact was enough to keep him sated for the moment.

‘You have no one else to work at the Station, I have to come in.’

‘I’ll take you by your ear and drag you home if you set one foot in the Station.’

Martha laughed at his comment, but stopped when her chest seized up.

‘You alright?’ Forrest was concerned, he hated seeing Martha in pain.

‘Yeah, just don’t make me laugh.’

‘I’ve not been known to make jokes.’ Forrest’s drawl made Martha laugh again. He thought he’d never seen a prettier sight, Martha’s features were glowing in the evening sun, she was smiling at him, because of him, there wasn’t more that he wanted from her.

‘Now, about Stan -’

‘I don’t wanna know, please don’t tell me.’ Martha’s smile disappeared when Forrest had said his name, there were some things she didn’t mind being in the dark about.

‘Alright.’

They were silent for a moment, Forrest understood why Martha didn’t want to know about the violence that had occurred, she had already seen what he could do to strangers in the Station.

‘I went into town this afternoon, Ray will have a new farm hand starting tomorrow. It’s all sorted, so you don’t need to worry.’ Forrest continued to stroke Martha’s hand as he spoke, like it was second nature to him.

‘Was it really that easy?’ Martha’s words held shame, she had protected Stan for so long, thinking that he wasn’t replaceable, but Forrest had sorted everything within the day.

Forrest stayed with Martha until Ray came back, then went to leave. Ray, whilst out in the sheds, had realised that without Forrest, Martha may have ended up really sick, so kindly asked Forrest if he wanted to stay for dinner. Forrest wanted to say no at first, he racked his brain to try and find an excuse, but Martha gave him a hopeful look, so he caved.

Ray was not aware of the relationship that was forming between Forrest and Martha, and he thought that having Forrest to stay was a sign of appreciation on his part. He cooked chicken pies, mac and cheese, cornbread, making a feast since he guessed that Forrest would have a big appetite. It became amusing to watch Martha try to use her left hand, Ray jokingly asked if she wanted him to cut up all her food for her. Martha wasn’t best pleased at that notion, and continued to struggle with her fork.

When dinner was gone, all three of them had cleared their plates, and Ray went to grab the pecan pie from the fridge. Martha had to explain that she had snuck downstairs during the night since she was so hungry, which left her feeling awkward, she thought she might’ve been told off by her Poppa, but there was no cause to.

Instead of the pie, they had peaches and cream, with Ray and Forrest helping themselves to applebrandy to wash it down.

Martha couldn’t help but think that the night was to echo the future, or at least, what she hoped the future would hold for her. Forrest wasn’t his usual quiet self, since it was only Ray and Martha, he relaxed and ended up making jokes with them. From time to time, Forrest would look over to Martha, first to her arm, seeing it bandaged made him shiver, but then he’d look to her face. She was smiling, she was happy to be out of the hospital and in her home, and she looked perfect. Whilst they were at work, Martha never got five minutes to herself, apart from her lunch break, but she shared that with Cricket. To see Martha in a familial setting, in a kitchen, surrounded by her only family, it was heart-warming to witness. Forrest knew that he wanted it for himself.

* * *

 

Despite Martha’s insistence, she wasn’t able to work properly at the Station, and for the first few days after coming back from the hospital, she was on strict bedrest. It was boring, sitting in her room and watching out of her window, but soon enough, her Poppa let her go out on the porch to spend the day. He was able to care for her properly, as his new employee, Greg, started working at the farm straight away. He was a lot younger than Stan, around Martha’s age, and had been working on farms since he was a boy, so her Poppa could trust him.

Forrest made daily visits to Martha in the evenings, when the sun was low and the air felt balmy, and they’d sit on the porch together, like an old married couple. Martha asked how the Station was, and Forrest had to tell her that he’d hired someone new, a woman called Maggie, who hailed from Chicago. Martha worried that she wouldn’t have a job to come back to, but Forrest ensured that there would be a place for her, and it would be as if she had never left.

‘Another woman, huh?’

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grumbled.

‘Does she make pies better than me?’ Martha was only teasing Forrest, and in the right mood, he was easy to wind up. Martha could predict the look he was giving her, and when she turned to see for herself, Forrest’s eyes were wide and staring, and he swallowed thickly.

‘Martha, I don’t know what you’re implying, but I can assure you that -’

‘I’m just messing with you, Forrest.’ Martha smiled, and laughed when Forrest rolled his eyes and shook his head at her.

‘I thought you were recovering? No need to be making jokes like that.’ Forrest’s drawl was playful, he wasn’t really annoyed with Martha, he just didn’t like being teased.

Their shared evenings on the porch continued into the second week of Martha’s recovery. Ray never disturbed them when they were together, and it wasn’t long before he started acting questions to his granddaughter, he was concerned about her interest in the Bondurant.

‘He’s sweet on you.’ Her Poppa said. He thought about easing into the conversation slowly, trying to not assume anything drastic, but his words betrayed him.

‘You think?’ Martha asked.

It was not the response Ray was expecting. He thought that she might try and deny any relationship between them, that it was just an employer concerned about his employee, but Martha looked away dreamily, there were other thoughts on her mind. ‘Yeah, I see the way he is with you. Forrest isn’t that nice to just anyone, ya know.’

Martha just nodded, a smile appeared on her lips. This was plainly obvious to Ray, and he could only watch as Martha became friendlier to Forrest.

* * *

 

When Martha’s hand was out of the splint, she returned to work immediately. Forrest tried to protest, he thought that she needed more rest, but when Martha showed that she could grill bacon and pour coffee at the same time, it shut him up, and he let her back. Martha met Maggie, who was her replacement for a while, and they got along straight away. It was nice to have a woman around the place, the Station was usually full of men, and Maggie provided a respite for Martha.

Martha saw how glamorously Maggie presented herself. She wore make-up, and also wore red lipstick, which matched her red hair, and her clothing was mature, Martha couldn’t help but think her old patterned dresses made her look a little childish. She had a way with dealing with handsy men too. For Martha, she had Forrest fight her battles for her, and he was willing to anyway, but Maggie sorted herself out.

Martha still had her gun in her apron, and she had worried that Maggie didn’t have anything for herself. When Martha confronted her about it, Maggie thanked her for being thoughtful, and then revealed the small knife that was tucked up in her sleeve.

‘Damn.’ Martha said, staring down at it.

‘I know, but it won’t do as much damage as your gun.’ Maggie smirked.

Martha only nodded, she knew what kind of damage the gun could do, but wasn’t keen in sharing that piece of information with Maggie.

Since Martha was back at work with Maggie, they became a force to be reckoned with behind the counter. Both were experts at cooking, but Martha had the edge in baking. They even took time to teach each other a few new things.

‘Oh, look at that guy.’ Maggie came to Martha’s side and whispered to her, and Martha followed her gaze. Maggie had gestured Martha to look at two men eating their lunch, and it looked like they didn’t have a full set of teeth between them. This was made worse by the fact that they were eating with their mouths open, their lips smacking with every bite of food.

‘Oh no.’ Martha sniggered, and Maggie tried to keep her laughing at bay when Forrest came over to the counter, empty mug in hand.

‘What’re you two giggling at?’ Forrest asked.

‘Oh, nothing, really.’ Maggie smiled, and moved away to serve a customer.

Forrest looked from Maggie to Martha, who had quickly washed up his mug. She watched Forrest raise one eyebrow at her, and she smiled back at him.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grumbled. He turned from the counter and went back into his office without taking his mug, he wanted Martha to bring it in for him.

Martha was annoyed at first, she wondered if he was actually that lazy, but when she knocked on the door and put the mug on the table, Forrest held her back for a talk.

‘Are you alright with Maggie here?’ Forrest asked with genuine concern. Now that Martha’s arm was on the mend, he was worried that she thought Maggie was passed her prime, that they didn’t really need another waitress. He also worried that Martha thought she was being replaced, so he had to clear the air, for his sake.

‘I like Maggie, it’s nice to have a woman around.’

‘Yeah, I noticed you getting friendly out there.’

For Forrest, it was just a throw away comment, he’d noticed the two getting along together from his cubby, and that pleased him. For Martha, a smirk appeared on her lips, thinking of how to tease him.

‘Forrest, don’t tell me you’re getting jealous.’ Martha feigned being hurt, but she couldn’t hide the smile. She saw Forrest crease his brow, not finding the question funny.

‘Don’t you have work to do?’

Martha smiled at Forrest, she never tired of seeing him as a grumpy man, it only made her laugh and like him more. She bent forward to Forrest’s head, and sweetly kissed him on the cheek. Before she could leave the study, however, Forrest called her back. Forrest stood up from his chair, and was more reserved this time, he took his hat off, slicked back his hair, then put the hat back on his head.

‘I don’t know if you’ve heard Jack, going on about some dance, but, uh …’ Forrest started. His eyes were trained on the floor, he was clearly nervous.

Martha had to bite her lip to stop smiling. Jack had been going on about the barn dance all week, saying how he was going to invite Bertha, the daughter of the Brethren preacher. The barn dance sounded like good fun, and supposed that she would go as well, she hadn’t wondered if Forrest might’ve wanted to go as well.

‘I thought that, uh, you might, uh,’ Forrest cleared his throat, and finally looked up to Martha, ‘will you go with me?'

The smile that appeared on Martha’s lips made Forrest’s heart melt. If he knew exactly how to make Martha smile, he’d do so with every sentence, his mission was to give Martha something to smile about, at least once every day.

‘I’d love to go to the dance with you, Forrest.’


	16. My Darlin' Martha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

There was a worry when Martha thought about the dance, and it was all about the outfit. She had dresses, but they were all the ones that she had worn to work many times, the material was wearing thin, and they weren’t in their best condition. Maggie often had catalogues she’d flip through when it was slow at work, and she let Martha have a look through one, to see if there was anything she liked. There were all the outfits that Maggie would wear, long skirts and smart shirts, but Martha didn’t think that they would suit her. Her legs weren’t long like Maggie’s, so a long skirt would’ve looked funny on her.

Martha flicked to the dress section, and picked out the first one she caught eyes with, it was perfect. A floral-patterned dress could do no wrong in Martha’s eyes, so sent off for the order through the post office in town.

There were a few days to wait until the order arrived, and a few days after that the dance was to happen. Forrest hadn’t mentioned any more about the dance to anyone, except for the talk about selling some white lightening and applebrandy whilst they were there. Forrest did take Martha aside to say that they’d have to make a run that day, and that it may not have been possible for him to pick her up. Instead of getting upset, like Forrest thought he’d better prepare for, Martha said that her Poppa could take her, and there was no need to worry about it. In truth, Forrest wanted to take Martha to the dance, he wanted to be a proper gentleman, like they were properly courting each other, but work had to come first.

Getting back to work was great, Martha’s routine was back to normal, and it was made better with Maggie being there. There were, however, problems arising at home with the new farm hand, Greg. When Greg showed up to work, he did a great job, Ray could find no faults in his work, and was thorough in checks of the animals and the buildings, then would give a run-down at the end of the day for Ray. However, there had been exactly four days where Greg hadn’t turned up for work in the mornings. He’d only been working for three weeks, and Ray was starting to get frustrated at his tardiness. At least he could’ve relied on Stan, he never missed a day.

Twice he had come in half a day late, and Ray would have him working till after the sun went down, and the other two days, Greg didn’t even bother showing up. Usually, Martha wouldn’t get involved in her Poppa’s business, but since Greg wasn’t showing up, her Poppa had to do the work at the farm, which was what she didn’t want. Martha had confronted Forrest about it twice, and she tried not to get angry, but she couldn’t help herself. Forrest understood why she was so upset, it was his doing that Greg was there in the first place, so he took it upon himself to have words with Greg. Greg was clever enough to know to be scared of Forrest, if he was telling him something, he had the right mind to take it into account and rectify his wrong-doings. For the past week, Greg had turned up at the farm at seven on the dot, so Martha had no cause to get upset with Forrest again.

When her dress came, Martha took the parcel up to her room and placed it on her bed. It was wrapped so nicely, she savoured the brown paper by ghosting her hand over the top of it. She had a war with herself, try it on immediately to see if it fit, or leave it till the night of the dance? Having still not answered her own question, Martha untied the string around it, and let the paper fall away from her dress. With gentle hands, she picked it up and brought it to her body, then walked over to the full-length mirror. She thanked herself for her good taste, it looked even better in person, and hastily decided that she couldn’t wait until the dance.

With the new dress on, Martha tried to imagine what Forrest would’ve thought. He had never mentioned her clothes before, not in an opinionated way, and Martha wondered if he’d even notice if it was new. It certainly looked new, so Martha decided to give Forrest the benefit of the doubt. She hadn’t ordered any new shoes, her work shoes were the nicest out of the two types of shoes she owned, so they had to do.

Forrest closed the Station early in the day, since he and Howard had to make a run, and Maggie drove Martha home. Before everyone left, Forrest took Martha to the side to give her a kiss, and said he was looking forward to seeing her that night. It left butterflies in Martha’s stomach, and she couldn’t hide her delight from Maggie.

‘Oh Martha, you look sick with love.’ Maggie commented light-heartedly.

‘I feel a fool for being so obvious.’

‘No, don’t.’ Maggie exclaimed. ‘If Forrest wasn’t already head over heels for you already, you’ll get him tonight.’

‘I got a new dress, from the catalogue you gave me.’

‘I know, Forrest asked about it.’

Martha turned to Maggie, she gave her a smirk and a wink.

‘He asked which one you got, but I said he’d have to wait to see for himself.’

Martha kept smiling as she left Maggie’s car, went to see her Poppa, and went upstairs to get ready. Since her shift finished early, Martha took her time in bathing herself, and she washed her hair for good measure. Martha was sure that the heat from the afternoon would’ve sorted out her wet hair, but she also used her hair dryer, running her fingers through the long strands. She didn’t know any fancy styles, all Martha could manage was a braid, so decided to have it in her normal style.

Her Poppa wasn’t going to let Martha go to the dance on an empty stomach, and made sure she had a full meal before she went. To make sure her dress wouldn’t spoil, Martha wore her dressing gown to dinner.

‘Now, I want Forrest to have you back by eleven. If he’s not there when I drop you off, you make sure to -’

‘Poppa, I’m an adult, I’ll get home when I’m ready to go home.’

Ray stared at Martha.

‘You realise this is my house.’

‘Fine, you tell Forrest Bondurant what you want to happen.’ Martha smirked at the thought, and was pleased by the way her Poppa’s face changed. She knew that if her Poppa asked for her to be home at a specific time, Forrest would honour his wishes, and for good measure would have her home fifteen minutes before her curfew. But if Martha had her Poppa convinced that Forrest wanted his own way, she would be able to stay out as late as she wanted.

By the time seven rolled around, Martha was dressed up and kicking her heels. She wringed her hands together as she waited at the bottom of her stairs for her Poppa.

‘Now’s a better time than ever, sweetheart. You ready?’

Martha felt like a school kid, being taken her first dance. Nerves were growing in her stomach, and she didn’t think her Poppa could give her any encouraging words.

When they parked the car in town, the barn was already full, a live band was playing, it could be heard from outside, and Martha was still nervous about going in on her own. Luckily, her Poppa spotted Forrest’s car nearby, and lead them both in.

People were dancing and laughing, and Martha scanned the floor, trying to find Forrest. Before she could spot him, her Poppa was already making his way to a corner, and Martha followed him blindly.

‘Evenin’, Forrest.’ Ray greeted Forrest. He was sitting in the corner of the room, with a crate of shine tucked behind his chair. Howard was sat next to him, already half way through a jar. Ray wasn’t too worried about Martha approaching behind him, he had something else on his mind.

‘I saw Greg’s car outside, can you make sure he gets home tonight, I don’t want him to be late tomorrow.’

‘You not stayin’, Ray?’ Howard asked. He turned his gaze to Martha and gave her a wink. Martha smiled back at him politely, then looked to Forrest.

It was clear that Forrest wasn’t paying much attention to Ray, his focus was on Martha, who had wandered up shyly to stand beside her Poppa. He had been waiting for half an hour, watching the door like a hawk, his foot began tapping nervously. Howard had made an annoying comment about it, but Forrest hadn’t paid him any attention. Now that Martha was here, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

‘Don’t you worry, Ray. Greg will get home safe, and hopefully conscious.’ Forrest’s tone was curt, and it seemed to sate Ray enough for him to not pester anymore.

Ray said his goodbyes to Martha, and left. Forrest stood up from his chair, and doffed his hat.

‘Well, Miss Lawrence, you do look a picture.’

‘You think? I got it from a catalogue.’ Martha pawed at her dress and smiled sweetly.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest looked Martha up and down hungrily, and took her hand in his. He stepped closer, their bodies were just inches from each other’s, and Forrest took her hand to his lips to kiss it softly. Martha’s legs almost buckled beneath her.

‘Now, don’t be angry with me, but there’s someone I need to talk to, I’ll be ten minutes, I promise.’

Martha wasn’t going to argue with Forrest, and watched him walk away. She sat in his seat next to Howard, and they watched the people dancing in front of them.

‘Do you want some shine, it’ll lighten you up?’ Howard asked. The chair he was sat on was too small, his long legs were spread out, and he leant back leisurely. He was holding a jar of shine in his hands, and it was sloshing everywhere.

‘No, thank you.’

‘You sure? You look so nervous you could lay an egg.’ Howard chuckled.

‘I didn’t think I’d be so nervous. Do you think I’m silly?’ Martha’s question was candid, she looked over to Howard on her right, waiting for his response. He thought it was sweet, to think that his brother had made her on edge in such a way, it was amusing, but Howard wasn’t going to torture the poor girl.

‘Nah, I reckon he’s more nervous than you, if you could believe it.’

Martha laughed. ‘No, I can’t believe it.’

Martha and Howard feel into an amicable silence, Howard then started talking to other people around him, and took money for jars of shine. This left Martha to think for a moment. She saw Jack and Bertha, they were off in a corner with Cricket, enjoying a conversation together. Jack’s smile reached his ears, he was so happy that Bertha had come to the dance with him. Martha watched as he tried to pull Bertha to the dance floor, taking both of her hands in his and giving them a slight pull.

Martha wondered if she was going to dance herself, she looked around at the other people dancing to the fast-paced music, but no one caught her eye. That was the case, until Forrest stalked across the room to Martha. By that point, a slower song had started playing, and Forrest held his hand out.

‘Martha, dance with me.’

It was not a question, nor was it a request, but it was an order. An order that Martha was happy to oblige by. Forrest had to put his pride and reputation on the back burner for at least five minutes, he had caught the sight of Martha looking lonely in the chair, and it wasn’t right for her to not be dancing. He was not, however, going to subject himself to a fast jig, that would’ve been too humiliating. He had timed his walk to the other side of the room to when the band started a slower tune. Of all things, he could at least manage a slow dance.

Forrest took Martha’s right hand in his left to hold up, and without hesitation, she put her other hand to his shoulder, resting her arm against him to get closer to his body. Then Forrest had a predicament, his right hand was lingering just behind her back, when they stepped in time to the music, his wrist would bump against her, but Forrest pulled back even further at the sensation. When Martha looked up to see how Forrest was coping, he looked distant, it was clear that he was trying to focus on where is hand was, rather than enjoying the intimacy. Martha thought to help him out.

‘Forrest, hold me closer.’

Forrest didn’t need telling twice, he did as he was told and finally brought his warm hand onto the small of Martha’s back. Their bodies naturally became closer, their fronts were brushing, and when Martha looked up, Forrest was mere inches away. As a reaction to the closeness, Martha tried to flex her hand, the one that Forrest was holding.

Their bodies swayed lightly to the soft peels of music, neither of them were great dancers, but they managed to find a rhythm with each other. Martha didn’t need to look at anyone around the room to know that most eyes were on her and Forrest, she was sure that the people of Franklin County weren’t used to seeing the oldest Bondurant brother in such a compromising position. Forrest knew they were being stared down as well, and having looked up once to check, he didn’t bother looking up again.

‘Am I asking too much of you? In front of all these people?’

Since Martha’s head was bent low, she couldn’t see Forrest’s reaction to her question. She wondered if he was feeling embarrassed, but he wasn’t the kind of person to let it show, so she had to ask if she was to get an answer.

‘No, Martha.’ Forrest’s drawl was a whisper by Martha’s ear, he was speaking for only her to hear. In their intimacy, he felt encouraged.

‘If we were the only two people in the room, it wouldn’t be enough.’

Martha’s sharp intake of breath signalled to Forrest that Martha understood the hidden meaning of his comment. With actually saying the words, Forrest had indicated that he wished to be with Martha, fully and completely. Forrest stared down at Martha until she returned his gaze.

Time had ceased to exist for both of them, their gaze had locked them both in a trance, neither were aware if they were still dancing, still moving.

‘I’m sure you could scare them out.’

Forrest breathed out a laugh, Martha’s forwardness surprised him.

‘You’d want that?’

‘If I asked you …?’

Forrest’s demeanour changed, the faint smile that was on his lips disappeared.

‘I’ll do anything you want, Martha. Anything.’

At those words, Martha leant her head forward to rest on Forrest. In her eye line, she could see the faint scar that circled his throat, but closed her eyes. It was a comforting feeling to be so close to Forrest, to feel his body against hers.

Forrest wanted to steel himself against Martha, it was the first time they had been so close, but they were surrounded by a room of people, it wasn’t fair. Naturally, he would’ve pulled away, but when Martha put her head on his shoulder, he could feel her breath against his neck, and he softened, letting himself relax into her. He then worried about how relaxed he felt, since he was only human. Forrest tried not to let his feelings fall in the pit of his stomach, or he’d embarrass himself.

* * *

 

Martha and Forrest only danced the one time, Forrest thought that anymore time spent dancing would’ve had an influence on his dignity. Martha didn’t expect any more from him anyway, and was happy to sit with him, and then she joined Cricket and Jack on the other side of the room.

Although he was selling shine and technically there for business, Forrest really did enjoy himself. Once they’d finished dancing, all he needed was to see that Martha was having a good time, that was enough to please him.

Forrest had to carry Howard to the car after the dance finished, this didn’t bother him so much since he didn’t have to bring any shine back with him, they’d sold the lot. Martha trailed behind them, and let herself into the car.

‘I’ll drop Howard off first, then take you home.’

Forrest didn’t want Howard snoring in the back as they said their goodnight’s. When they got to the Station, he had to shake Howard awake to get him off of the truck, and didn’t waste any time in checking that he was alright. Forrest’s strides were long, he wanted to get back to the car to be with Martha.

The drive, the damn drive home. It was the only time that he and Martha could truly be alone together, but it was when he had to leave her for the day, and he hated it. They’d gotten used to the routine of leaving each other with a kiss, but there was only so long that Forrest could hold onto Martha to keep her close.

That night was different, when they were alone, Forrest took the liberty of placing his hand on Martha’s thigh. She had moved herself over to be closer to Forrest when he got back into the car, and placed her hand on his. Martha thought that this was forward of him, but then he made the comment earlier in the evening, and things were naturally moving in the right direction. Martha wondered if Forrest would grow in confidence since it was just the two of them.

Forrest parked the car outside the house, and turned to Martha. He sighed out loud, knowing that she would be leaving him soon, he tried to think how to prolong her stay in the car. Before he could act, Martha reached her hand to Forrest’s other hand, the one still placed on the wheel. There wasn’t time for Martha to hold onto it, however, and Forrest placed it on her cheek, and brought her closer, her hand went to grip onto his sleeve, to keep him close.

The kiss was deep, and Martha focused on the way Forrest’s tongue swiped at her lips, she felt his hand move up her thigh, bringing her dress with it. With her bare thigh now on show, Forrest stroked the rough pads of his fingers to feel how soft her skin was.

‘Mr Bondurant, I had you down as an honourable man.’

‘Mmhm.’

‘Don’t do that, say something to me.’

That made Forrest stop for a moment, he was surprised that she’d turned. It wasn’t a nasty comment, it was out of irritation in Forrest being ambiguous with his emotions. Forrest had to think of what to say to her, and what Martha would want to hear.

‘Martha …’

‘More, Forrest.’

‘I …’

‘Tell me what you want.’

Forrest looked into Martha’s eyes, trying to take some of her confidence for himself. Since she was so keen, Forrest thought he had nothing to lose.

‘You, I could have you right now.’

The hand that was placed high on Martha’s thigh went even higher, Forrest’s hand went underneath her dress and came to the crease of her thigh. His hand spanned the top of it, and his finger brushed against Martha’s underwear. They remained fierce eye contact, but Martha was weakening at the feeling of being touched so intimately.

‘Have me?’ Martha’s words were breathed out, if Forrest wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have been able to hear them.

‘Touch you, kiss you, here.’ Forrest moved his fingers slightly, which made Martha grip onto his wrist, keeping his hand there.

‘Be … in you. Have you.’

Martha gulped. ‘We’d have each other. I want the same.’

Forrest was about to dip his head in again, but his face lit up when the porch light came on.

‘Mmhm.’

It was one of Forrest’s angrier grumbles, they were so close, but they had to separate. Forrest’s lips had just brushed against Martha’s, and she whimpered when he pulled away. His hands moved from her body, and went back to grip the steering wheel. With the sudden change of atmosphere, Forrest felt guilty, he thought he’d pushed Martha too far.

‘Martha, I …’

‘Don’t regret this Forrest, I don’t. Don’t act shy now.’

Martha turned her body to face Forrest properly, and put a hand out to his arm. She watched as he met her gaze, a sorrowful look on his face.

‘I don’t regret it.’

Forrest took Martha’s hand from his sleeve and brought it to his lips.

‘Good night, Forrest.’

‘Good night, my darlin’ Martha.’

It pained the both of them to leave when their emotions were so heightened, but with great self-control, they parted for the evening.


	17. Lonesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

Tracks had been made in Forrest’s and Martha’s relationship, and the feeling between them was more intense than ever. As Martha walked to the lit-up porch, the urge to turn around and go back to Forrest was overwhelming. She knew the next day at work would’ve been agonisingly painful, there was no space in the Station to be alone with Forrest, not even in his study.

When Forrest got back to the Station, his mind kept him awake for some time. He’d gotten into bed, but, Forrest thought to himself, notably alone. He didn’t want to be in his bed alone anymore. Forrest wanted Martha next to him, in his bed, as close to him as possible. Those thoughts turned to nerves, from the feeling that it would bring, but also the terrible thought of Martha rejecting him. She’d shown herself to be eager, she urged him to share, but there was a nagging sense of doubt that he couldn’t shake. Forrest was sure that Martha would’ve wanted to do things properly, and marriage always came first in that instance. And to Forrest, in that moment, marriage didn’t sound like a bad idea.

The day after the dance was long, the July heat sweltered in the Station, and there wasn’t much custom to keep people busy. Most people seemed to be hungover from the dance, and Howard was one of them. He made it downstairs by noon, hours after Forrest had gotten up, and slouched over at the counter. He didn’t need to ask for food, Martha went ahead and plated up some sandwiches for him, trying not to laugh at his awful state.

Whilst Martha spent her day behind the counter, Forrest kept himself holed up in his study, not wanting to bother her as she worked. His mind couldn’t concentrate that well, not with the thoughts of the previous night recurring on him. His foot tapped away whilst he was in deep thought, rationalising every scenario that could happen if Forrest made a move on Martha.

Those thoughts kept Forrest quiet when he drove Martha home that evening. It was a late one, despite the slow day, and Martha was feeling the effects from the night before. Her sleepiness caught Forrest’s eye, and he beckoned for her to move herself over to him, so she could rest against his body. He should’ve known better than to doubt himself, as Martha happily leant into him.

Martha was too tired to have a repeat of the previous night, so bid Forrest farewell, and gave him a kiss that should’ve lasted him the night. This left Forrest with a smile, nothing too obvious, but it was enough to sate Martha.

If Martha had been paying any attention to her surroundings, and had not been thinking about Forrest so intently, she would’ve noticed that the porch light wasn’t on. She thought nothing was out of the ordinary as she turned the knob of the front door in the dark, hardly seeing where it was since Forrest had turned the car away and his headlights weren’t beaming at her.

Martha still thought nothing about the house being as dark as the porch was, there were no lights on in the front room, or the kitchen, or upstairs.

‘Poppa!’ Martha shouted. She stepped into the hall and put her bag down on the side table. She expected to hear a shout back, but strangely, there was nothing.

‘Poppa?’

Martha poked her head into the front room, thinking he might’ve fallen asleep on the couch, but he wasn’t there. She walked through the dining room and into the kitchen, there was a half empty cup of something, and a dirty plate on the table, but her Poppa wasn’t there. The back-porch light wasn’t on, but Martha swung the mesh door open to check, and he was not there.

Martha thought that it was strange for her Poppa to not be around. When she got home, it was guaranteed that her Poppa would be there to greet her, either he’d be in the kitchen or on the back-porch, that’s where he had always been. The day had been hot, and Martha thought that it might have tired him out, so she went upstairs to see. Martha knocked on the door, not bothering to be subtle about the noise she made. There was no reply, so she thought he may have been sleeping. There was a little seed of worry in her mind, so for good measure, she opened the door to check.

Her Poppa wasn’t there. It didn’t make sense. Martha knew that his truck was out front, so he wasn’t in town, but there was nowhere else he’d be apart from the house. Apart from, Martha thought quickly, the store rooms by the side of the house.

Martha’s pace was quick, the seed of worry in her mind had begun to grow unhealthily. She stomped down the stairs and paced through the kitchen. She jumped all of the steps down the porch and took off to the sheds. The first shed was a store room for all the farming equipment, the door was already open so she rushed in.

‘Poppa?!’ She yelled. The small light was on, but there was no one there. Martha put her hands to her head in frustration, where could he have been?

Martha’s heart was thundering in her chest when she exited the small shed, and looked to her right to the entrance of the cow sheds. The animals inside were making a racket of noise, but that wasn’t what Martha was focusing on. There was a figure lying on the ground beside the door, face down. From the light the moon was casting, and the small outside light on the cow shed, it was obvious as to who it was. Martha took small steps at first, hardly believing her eyes, then she dashed. She fell to her knees by her Poppa’s body, and was shaking his body, bringing him to lie on his back. ‘Poppa! Poppa, wake up!’ She cried. Martha tried to look for blood, or an obvious injury but there was nothing on his body. Martha’s screams turned into hardened wails, but she cleared her mind for long enough to think to run back to the house. Her feet stomped on the floor to where she had placed her bag, and to where the keys of the truck were.

Tears ran down Martha’s cheeks and she couldn’t stop sobbing as she sprinted to the truck and drove it haphazardly to the cow sheds. Martha jumped out and opened the passenger door. It was like when she taking Forrest to the hospital, a shiver ran through her spine at the thought of déjà vu. She put her arms underneath her Poppa’s body like she did with Forrest, and dragged him to the car. Luckily, and it was the only luck in that moment, her Poppa didn’t weight as much as Forrest. She climbed backwards into the car and sat him up in the seat, all the while shouting at him, telling him to open his eyes and wake up.

Martha drove to the hospital, shuddering sobs from her body as her Poppa sat next to her, she didn’t even know if he was alive.

She parked the car up close to the entrance, and ran inside to grab anyone’s attention. Like with what happened to Forrest, her Poppa was taken from her and wheeled off. A nurse took one look at Martha and put her hands around her shoulders, she was kind enough to take her to a chair, which turned out to be a good thing, as Martha could already feel her knees buckling beneath her.

Martha didn’t know what to think, but she knew that she couldn’t stop crying. The day had been so normal, what could’ve changed, and why did pain have to target her so much? Martha was beginning to feel numb, no one had come out in the past ten minutes to tell her what was happening to her Poppa, she wondered if they had forgotten about her.

She didn’t even want to look up when the door finally opened, a nurse appeared, and she knelt down in front of her.

‘Miss Lawrence, I’m so sorry.’

The nurse needn’t have said anymore, and the numb feeling that Martha thought she was transitioning into fell away, her body shook as an onset of tears affected her once more. The nurse tried to comfort Martha, she put a hand on her back and gave her a tissue, but Martha was in her own world, a world in which she truly had no family left.

She was alone, her mother, her father, and now her Poppa, had gone. She saw each of them in that moment. She was eleven when her mother took her last breaths in front of her, already a corpse on the hospital bed. She was twenty when she walked into the apartment and saw her father, what was left of her father. Martha couldn’t take anymore death, not after Washington, but to have carried her Poppa’s body, she didn’t know if he died at home or at the hospital, to have held him, it what could’ve been his last moments, it was enough.

‘Would you like to see him?’

Martha didn’t know what she wanted. The nurse still had a hand on her back, trying to bring any sort of comfort to her. Martha eventually nodded, and the nurse was patient when she took her time getting up from the seat. The door wasn’t open, and Martha stared at the door knob for a moment, once again, deciding whether she should or not. Her hand reached out, and turned the knob.

Martha’s knees were knocking together, her teeth were chattering, she didn’t realise how cold the hospital was. It was made colder still by the sight of her Poppa, lying on the bed. He had a sheet over his body, his arms were by his side and resting on top of it. His careworn face was still, he didn’t have anything left to worry about anymore. As she walked over to his side, she half-expected him to open her eyes and make her jump, like a sick joke, but he didn’t.

‘Goodbye, Poppa.’

They were futile words, he couldn’t hear her, but she needed to say them. After they had left her lips, she couldn’t bare being in the room any longer. The hospital was making her sick, she left without saying goodbye to any of the nurses, or explaining why she was rushing out.

The sickness Martha had been feeling had made her skin hot, and the cool, night air slapped her harshly. She thought her raw, red eyes were going to make her sleepy, but as she stepped down slowly from the porch, she hadn’t felt more awake in her life. Martha got to the car, and let her hand drag around the front of it as she made her way to the driver’s seat. Once inside, she looked to her right, her Poppa had just been there, he had been sitting right there. She ran her hand over the seat, but the warmth his body would’ve left had gone.

Martha took the drive back home leisurely, there was no rush to get there, her Poppa wouldn’t be worrying about where she was. The porch light wasn’t on, no one was there to flick the switch.

* * *

 

The house was scary on her own. Martha thought about turning all the lights on, thinking she’d be safer that way. She thought that was a good idea, until she realised how that would affect the electricity bill at the end of the month, and she wondered how she would be able to pay for that.

Martha pushed the thoughts of bills out of her mind, and made her way into the kitchen. When she turned the light on, she saw the plate and cup that had been left there. She wondered what meal it was for her Poppa, whether it was his breakfast, lunch or dinner. Martha took the plate and cup to the sink, and washed them carefully, wiping the cloth gently over every inch. She made sure that the water was boiling, and her hands paid the price for it. When Martha went to get the dishcloth, her hands were bright red, but she didn’t feel any pain.

Martha was slow and careful in putting the things away, she didn’t let the plate hit the others on the pile loudly, there was hardly any noise at all. When she put the cup away, she let it slip gradually from her hand, it landed on the shelf delicately. She folded the dishcloth and placed it on the side. Without thinking, she checked the time, and almost did a double take. She thought the hands of the clock were deceiving her at first, she couldn’t believe how late it was. Martha thought that it didn’t feel like two in the morning, the night had disappeared from her so quickly.

If it had just gone two in the morning, Martha thought, then the sun would’ve risen in less than four hours, meaning that there was no point in going to bed. Not that she would’ve been able to sleep anyway, she didn’t want to. Instead, Martha sat at the kitchen table for a while. She poured herself a cup of water, but it sat untouched for an hour in front of her.

Martha tried to relay the events of the night in her mind. Her day was normal, she hadn’t been sad at anything or annoyed at anyone. Maggie made jokes about Howard being hungover, and Jack being lovesick with Bertha, it had put Martha in a good mood, an un-worrying type of mood. All the while, her Poppa was out in the shed, working. The nurse had told Martha that her Poppa had a heart attack, and that it had happened about an hour before she had taken him into hospital.

This led Martha to think about her choices, the ones that occurred an hour before she had left work. Maggie didn’t mind working late at the Station, she was more of a night-owl anyway. Martha had never asked to leave a shift early, there had never been a reason why she should’ve. An hour before she left for her shift, Martha had been staring into Forrest’s cubby hole, trying to see him working. She had wanted his attention, she wanted him to come out and talk to her, or at least sit at one of the tables to watch her work. Whilst Martha had pined for Forrest, her Poppa had died. Martha felt ashamed at herself, and couldn’t believe how selfish she had been.

After sitting at the kitchen table had become unbearable, Martha got herself up and went to the bathroom. It was the same routine she had taken the night with Forrest, she wanted, no, needed to have a bath. Her dress had been sweated in, cried on, and worn through her shift at work. Martha made sure that the water was searing hot, and once she stripped herself bare, she dipped her toe in, winced at the temperature, then submerged her entire body. Although her body was on fire to begin with, the heat became manageable as her body went numb with the scolding water.

Martha did herself a favour and stopped thinking. She stopped with the what if’s and just shut her eyes. She must’ve dozed off a couple of times as well, water went up her nose as she found herself going unconscious with sleep. Martha stayed until the water was turning colder, affecting her body and giving her goose bumps.

With a towel wrapped around her body, Martha moved from the bathroom to her bedroom. She didn’t bother turning the light on, and got under the covers, still with the towel around her. Her hair was wet, it soaked her pillow, but Martha knew it was time for her to rest.

When morning broke, Martha opened her eyes slowly and looked to her window. She hadn’t shut the curtains, and the sun rose from the front of the house, but she could see the dewy morning air, moving the trees and welcoming the day. It would’ve been another hot day, Martha was sure.

Martha checked the time, it was half five in the morning. There was no rest left in her, so she got up and put her proper nightwear on. She decided that she wasn’t going to the Station that day, she wanted to be alone, no matter how odd it felt. Martha stood in front of her windows, out to the pastures that were effectively hers, and felt the weight of her frown on her lips. It hurt to have the corners of her lips so low, she thought, they were pulling her cheeks down with them, but Martha couldn’t think of anything that would’ve made her smile.

The kitchen was just how Martha left it, the cup of water still rested on the table untouched. Martha had to truly decide whether she wanted breakfast or not, since she really wasn’t sure. To understand what she was hungry for, she took all the breakfast foods one by one to examine them. She took the eggs in her hands, either scrambled, boiled, sunny-side up, perhaps an omelette, but that wasn’t it. There was a pot of blackberry jam on the top shelf of the fridge, she undid the lid and smelt what should’ve been sweet and tart, but to Martha, it smelt foul. She put it straight back. Martha thought, perhaps toast and butter, something simple but with some energy, but the butter looked soft and unappealing, and the bread stodgy. The only fruit that was in the bowl was two green apples, but when she picked them up, the undersides were brown and soft. She threw them in the bin and washed the bowl out thoroughly. There were only meats left, but Martha took one look at the uncooked rashers of bacon and felt nauseous.

There wasn’t anything in the kitchen that Martha wanted to eat, but by the time she had seen everything, her appetite had disappeared anyway. Instead of torturing herself, she wrapped her dressing gown tight around her body and went out to the back porch, to sit in her own company, in peace.

Everywhere in the house had memories of her Poppa, there was no hiding that fact. What Martha thought would’ve been peace and quiet, it instead churned her mind with thoughts of the reality she was living. The cattle mooed loudly from their sheds, but her Poppa’s chair, the one beside her own, was empty, he wasn’t there to help them, to tend to them, and Martha knew nothing about dairy farming.

As if luck was returning on her side to smite her, there was a frenzied knock at the door. Martha trudged through the house to answer it, not bothering to care about her attire.

When Martha opened the door, she was presented with Greg. Tears were streaming down his face, and he took off his hat, snivelling.

‘Miss Lawrence.’ He sobbed. ‘Miss Lawrence, I’m so sorry.’

Martha stood and just watched Greg, she was curious as to how news had travelled so fast. She guessed that people would be paying their respects soon enough.

‘I … I didn’t turn up yesterday, Miss Lawrence.’

Martha creased her brow, confused as to what Greg was implying.

‘I was … hungover … from the dance.’ Greg kept snivelling and sobbing, and Martha stayed quiet.

‘I’m so sorry. I’m going to work now.’

The morning breeze whirled around Martha’s face as she watched Greg walk around the house to go to the sheds. Everything made sense, Martha realised why her Poppa was out in the sheds in the first place. The cup and plate he had left on the table must’ve been his breakfast, he left it in frustration when he realised that Greg wasn’t going to turn up. He had been working till late in the night because he wasn’t young like Greg, he had spent his entire day outside working, because Greg had too much to drink.

Martha thought back to the times when she had to talk to Forrest about Greg’s behaviour, he had promised that the last time he had spoken to him was the final word. Forrest said he had scared Greg enough so he wouldn’t miss any more work.

Martha didn’t feel angry in the end, Greg already looked like he had been through the wars, and she wasn’t in the mood to chew him out. It all came down to acceptance, she had to accept that everything had happened.

There was another knock at the door half an hour later, Martha wondered which mourner it might’ve been. Her heart jumped in her throat when she saw Forrest. Like Greg, he doffed his hat, and there was sincere look on his face.

‘Martha, I am so sorry for your loss.’

Forrest had heard about Ray’s death from a customer. He was sitting on his porch, seeing in the morning, and the old man, whoever he was, said he was sorry for his loss. Forrest didn’t know what he was talking about at first, but then the man confirmed that it was Ray Lawrence who had died, and he was sorry since he knew that Ray’s granddaughter worked at the Station. Panic flowed through Forrest as he left the Station immediately, driving straight to Martha’s.

When Martha opened the door for Forrest, she looked a state. He didn’t want to believe it, but the sight of her only confirmed it for him. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red raw and her skin too pale to be considered healthy. After he had said his customary apologies, Martha opened the door for him to come in, but she hadn’t said a word to him.

‘You understand, that if there’s anything I can do, you say so.’

Forrest closed the front door behind him, keeping his eyes on Martha’s back. She stopped at the door to the front room.

‘He had a heart attack, Forrest.’

It had been the first time she had spoken; her last words had been to say goodbye to her Poppa. Martha’s voice was dry and weak, it was painful for Forrest to hear, she was so clearly destroyed over it.

‘I found him out in the shed, he had been working all day.’

Forrest’s gaze bore into the back of Martha’s head, and he was cottoning on to what she was implying. Thoughts were whirring through his mind.

‘Greg hadn’t come to the farm for his shift.’

The big reveal to Forrest was made worse by the fact that Martha turned around to finally look him in the eye. He thought that she might cry, but Martha steeled herself against it, she had no tears left.

‘Greg wasn’t there, so Poppa did the work.’

Forrest felt as if his heart had been squeezed to a pulp. The memory of Ray asking him to see if Greg got home jumped in his mind. After the dance with Martha, he was only thinking about her, and had completely forgotten to check on Greg. He must’ve gotten so drunk that he didn’t turn up for work.

Martha had seen enough of Forrest for the moment, it was clear that he was trying to figure out everything in his mind. She walked into the front room and sat herself down on the couch, legs together and arms tight to her sides. Forrest had followed her in, like a little puppy following its owner. He stood to the side of the room, and was wringing his hat in his hands.

‘Martha, I …’

‘I don’t want to blame anyone, because that ain’t right.’ Martha had found her voice, it was clearer than Forrest’s.

‘The blame could be placed on anyone, Greg, Poppa, you -’

Forrest gulped loudly, and his heart skipped an awful beat.

‘Me.’

‘This is not your fault Martha, nor Ray’s. Where’s Greg?’

Martha rolled her eyes, and Forrest saw. She leant forward and placed her head in her hands, she was tired of the way that Forrest thought.

‘Martha, where is he?’

‘If you lay a finger on young Greg -’ Martha’s voice rose, tired of Forrest’s conducts. She turned her head to the right, to see how Forrest had reacted.

‘Forrest, you can’t create another grave from this. I feel the next one could be me.’

The words were triggering for Forrest, he went up to her side and knelt down. Despite the distant attitude Martha was giving him, Forrest put himself closer to Martha, he grabbed both of her hands in his own to hold them.

‘I do not want to hear you say those words, Martha, they’re not right coming from you.’

‘It’s all about what you want, isn’t it?’ Martha said harshly, but she didn’t take her hands from Forrest’s grip.

‘You wanted to get rid of Stan, you wanted to hire Greg …’

Forrest couldn’t help but understand that Martha was right, all that had occurred was due to his actions, but there wasn’t blood on his hands. They both knew that there was no final blame to be placed. Forrest had to treat Martha carefully, and not fly off the handle like he had in the past.

‘Then what do you want, Martha?’

Martha took a moment to think, there wasn’t an answer that came immediately to her mind. With the feeling of her hands in Forrest’s, her mind blurred a little, but soon enough, the most important thoughts came to the front of her mind.

‘I need help with the house, and the farm. I have to get Poppa’s affairs in order, and I don’t know how to do that.’

Forrest stayed true to his word, he said if there was anything he could do he would, and it was what Martha had wanted. In truth, and Forrest regretted feeling it, he was a little hurt that Martha hadn’t said she wanted him, that he was all she needed. They had found comfort in each other before, but things were different. It was selfish to think that the cure to Martha’s grief was him, that he was enough to nurse her back to health, and back to her old self. But Martha was an adult, with responsibilities, and her last family member to bury, Forrest could not be thinking about himself at that time.


	18. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

There was a time when Martha had to act older than she was when dealing with her father’s debts and dealings. The financial side of the hardware store he had owned had been a mess, and she had no clue about accountancy, or what to do when a business went into bankruptcy and forced liquidation. Then there was all the stock that had to go, then all of the furniture, and by the time the apartment had been stripped bare, Martha barely had a cent to her name.

Now that her Poppa had gone, she had been left something close to a fortune, a fortune when comparing her previous experience. Forrest had set Martha up with the local accountant and solicitor, they talked through the viability of the farm, how much was being earned every year, and what Martha was to inherit. The sum she was presented with was incredible to see, she had no idea that cows could make so much money, but Martha didn’t even know if she wanted to keep the farm going. The accountant told her to not be silly and throw something like that away, but Martha didn’t know what she was to do.

The only person she trusted with matters of business was Forrest. He was a clever business man, no matter how many times Jack would boast about making deals with Floyd Banner. Forrest was in charge of the books and the whole operation, so Martha went to him for advice. But it was only his advice that she went for. The mood between them had gone peculiar, Martha didn’t know if was all down to her, or if Forrest felt that things were different as well.

Martha would sit in Forrest’s study as he looked over all the numbers and ledgers she had given him, the same ones her accountant and solicitor had looked at. Forrest wondered if Martha knew why he’d gotten her independent help. He did it so someone could make unbiased opinions for her, rather than him. Forrest wanted Martha to stay, but whether that meant she kept or sold the farm, not even Martha knew that answer.

Forrest had stayed true to Martha’s word, and had not laid a finger on Greg, although he was desperate to. He had stayed with Martha until she had calmed down on the day he went to see her, but on his way out, he took a detour and went to the sheds. Greg was busy milking the cows, but had noticed the shadow in the shed doorway. Forrest didn’t need to say anything, he didn’t need to move closer, all he did was stand menacingly and stare down at Greg, and the message couldn’t have been clearer. Forrest’s appearance as a benevolent figure made Greg whimper, and he was frozen stock still until Forrest left to go back to the Station.

The funeral that was arranged wasn’t a large affair, Martha didn’t want to prolong anything, and she knew that her Poppa wouldn’t have wanted a big send off. There was only one black dress that Martha owned, it was the same one she had worn to her father’s funeral. There was a part of Martha that had wanted to leave it in Washington, thinking that it would’ve been a long time till she needed it again, but as fate had it, she did need it again.

They went to the Franklin County Burial Ground, that’s where her Poppa had arranged a plot for himself. Ray was not a religious man, so Martha hadn’t planned for rites to be given, it was just a simple burial. The simple burial had echoed the simple number of guests, it was only Martha, the three Bondurant brothers, Cricket, Maggie and a few people from town. Martha had warned Greg not to come, thinking that a fight may ensue, instigated by Forrest, but told him he could visit the grave later in the day if he felt like it.

Martha stood the closest to the lowering coffin. She thought she might cry, and had prepared for that end by putting a tissue up her sleeve. Despite the atmosphere, and the intense gaze from the people on the other side of the grave, Martha couldn’t help but think about Forrest, who had placed himself close behind her. A conflict grew in her mind, she didn’t know if she wanted Forrest, or to keep him at arm’s length. There wasn’t a fragility about her anymore, she was just saying goodbye to her Poppa, but she wanted Forrest, she wanted him to take her hand in support. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, in a comfort that she yearned for, but truthfully, didn’t really need.

Forrest didn’t want to cause a scene, a funeral was no place to be showing affection, not when he and Martha weren’t officially courting. And there was no chance of that, Forrest thought, not anymore. What they had been before, whatever it was, was no longer. But there was a part of Forrest, the part being in his heart, that hoped. He hoped that Martha could heal and see him again, for how she saw him before.

Martha hadn’t driven to the funeral, Maggie had been the one to pick her up. She had waited for Martha by her car, thinking that she was going to take her home, but Forrest had told her to go. Maggie didn’t budge, she had promised Martha a ride home, and still hadn’t gone when Martha had walked up to them.

‘Martha, I’ll take you home.’ Forrest said, a stern look on his face. Maggie looked to Martha, and made sure that it was alright. When Martha had nodded her head, Maggie put her hand out on her arm, double-checking that it was her free choice to do so.

‘It’s alright, Maggie.’

Forrest was holding the door open for Martha, and she got in quietly. It wasn’t a new situation to be in, Martha had been driven home by Forrest lots of times before, but that was before her Poppa had died, that was when things used to be good between them.

The journey was silent, the sound of the engine running was all that was heard. Neither of them had anything to say to each other, and Martha felt too tired to start any form of conversation.

Martha didn’t protest when Forrest opened the front door for her, nor when he followed her inside the house. Forrest had wanted to see her home to know if she was alright, and he would’ve guessed if she had started lying to him to keep up appearances. They walked into the kitchen, the sun was streaming in through the windows, the late afternoon was too hot on Martha’s skin, the black attire didn’t help either. Forrest stood by the door to the hall, and he watched Martha stand next to a chair, tucked into a table. She gripped the back of it, not knowing what to do with herself.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grumbled. He didn’t know what to say to her, but he didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to leave her alone in the house, when she could’ve been at her most vulnerable, it was something Forrest had picked up quickly in the moment.

‘It ain’t right, a young woman like you, alone in a big house.’

It was a throwaway comment, just Forrest trying to fill the silence. It was also his sneaky way of telling Martha something specific, but he was sure that she wouldn’t have picked up on it. Alone in a big house wasn’t a way to live, especially for someone so young, Forrest was indirectly telling Martha that he wanted her at the Station.

For such a blasé comment, Forrest didn’t expect it to backfire so badly.

‘Whose fault is that?’

Martha’s comment was off the cuff, and hadn’t been thought through. It had passed through her mind, and she couldn’t stop herself from saying it, but had regretted it instantly. Forrest hadn’t expected it either, and had bowed his head in shame before he could see Martha roll her eyes and shake her head. He knew that there was at least some truth in her words, and he could never forgive himself for that fact.

‘Oh God, Forrest, I’m sorry,’ Martha started apologising, ‘I didn’t mean … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’

It was true enough, for she knew how much Forrest had helped her in the days after her Poppa’s death. He had set her up with the accountant and solicitor, plus he paid for the hourly fees they charged. As well as that, he had taken time to look over Ray’s accounts, Martha valued his opinion on the matter, and he wouldn’t have said no to her. Forrest was also the one who told Maggie to deliver food to Martha’s house, out of the stock for the Station. He was looking after Martha in ways she didn’t know, of course she hadn’t meant those horrible, accusing words.

Forrest looked up from his hands to Martha, who looked at him with puppy eyes, showing him that she was sorry.

‘Is there anything you need for tonight?’

Forrest remained hopeful for the answer to be one that involved him. He’d never put himself in front of what Martha had wanted, he wasn’t that selfish. Forrest watched Martha stare at the kitchen table, and at first, he thought that she was debating the answer, her mind must’ve been so muddled, she didn’t know what she wanted. But so much time seemed to pass that Forrest thought she hadn’t heard him, Martha seemed to be staring into space, forgetting that he was still lingering the doorway.

Feeling downcast and useless, Forrest grumbled, then started to turn, he thought he’d outstayed his welcome.

‘Stay with me, please?’

Martha’s voice was faint, like a small child pleading. It was her desperate attempt to get Forrest closer to her. He hadn’t shown any affection at the funeral, he had stood solemnly to the side. In the car, on the way home, Forrest had sat in his seat, only moving to change gears or look out of the mirror, he seemed to not to have paid Martha any attention. At the house, he had stood a few feet away from Martha, fearing to make contact, thinking that his words should’ve been comforting enough, but Martha just wanted him close, and Forrest was to do what Martha wanted, he had promised her that.

Forrest followed Martha up the stairs, blindly copying her steps, and she went to her bedroom. Forrest stopped by the threshold, and Martha gave him one last look before closing the door in front of him. The message was clear, he was to wait. Forrest felt like he couldn’t breathe, not even blink.

The door eventually opened, and Martha was in her nightwear. The thought had occurred to Martha when she walked up the stairs, did she want Forrest to undress her, was she going to act that helpless? She was sure that if she asked, and then begged, he would’ve done it. It was enough for Forrest to see her in her silk romper, she couldn’t begin to think about Forrest seeing her naked.

Martha let the door stay open, and stepped back for Forrest to walk in. All the while, they kept intense eye contact, neither bothering to check where their feet were, or if they were going to knock into something. Then Forrest did something Martha had been waiting for, wishing for.

Forrest took one hand and placed it against Martha’s cheek. It was like the first time they had touched, Martha closed her eyes and melted into him. With his other hand, he placed it on Martha’s waist, and pulled her to him gently. Martha’s body went heavy for a moment, she put her hands on his chest to hold herself up, then started heaving. The tears that she had been keeping in, the ones that she thought didn’t exist, made themselves known.

Martha was shaking in Forrest’s arms, he had to take his hand from her cheek to her body, the more she cried the heavier her body became. Forrest was strong enough to hold Martha up, she had wanted him to hold her, she was clearly indicating that to him without the need for words, and he did so without question. They stayed together for a few minutes, the weight of Martha’s body didn’t bother him, and soon, Martha began to calm down. She had gotten her wish, to be held by Forrest just the once, and she felt exhausted from it.

Forrest knew what to do. He pulled Martha’s body away from his, just so he could look down to her face. He pressed his lips to her forehead, where her hot skin met her soft hair. The kiss was tender, it was enough for the moment.

Like a parent would for their child, Forrest put Martha to bed. The day was still young, but he could tell that Martha had had enough, that she was ready to rest. He placed the blankets on her body, and sat down beside her.

Forrest took Martha’s hand in his own, and held it till she closed her eyes. Her eyes were raw from the tears, and skin was hot from the intimacy, but all Forrest could focus on was the sound of short breaths eliciting from her pink lips, he watched them until the sun started setting.


	19. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

Martha slept the best she had in a week, not waking once in the night, and when she did wake, her head didn’t feel stuffy or heavy. It had become commonplace to get up with a headache, but that morning, the morning after she had buried her Poppa, Martha’s head felt somewhat clear.

Martha was lying on her side, facing her door. She spent her waking moments thinking about the night before, thinking about how Forrest had held her with all his might as she collapsed on him, showing him how she truly felt. Her eyes felt heavy-lidded from all of the crying, but then the thought of Forrest sitting on her bed, holding her hand as she went to sleep warmed her heart and calmed her mind. He had been there on her bed, Martha put her hand where he had sat, but he clearly wasn’t there anymore.

There was a nagging thought that had entered Martha’s mind, Forrest had said that he didn’t like the idea of her being alone in the house, but he had surely left her to go home. Why would’ve he stayed, what was there for him to do, and where would’ve he slept? It wouldn’t have been right for an unmarried man to stay in the same house as an unmarried, vulnerable woman.

Martha assumed that Forrest gone home, and that bothered her. The thought of seeing Forrest in the morning felt nice, she thought back to when they shared evenings on the porch when she had time off work. They sat like an old married couple in their chairs, Martha wanted to see how Forrest was in the morning, she knew he rose early, and wondered if he was just as grumpy when he woke up.

The light was filtering in through the sides of her curtains, Forrest had closed them when he left her room. Martha thought about getting up, her stomach was rumbling and making her lie-in uncomfortable, but she heard creaking from outside her door. Martha froze, her first thought was that there was an intruder in the house, but thought of a more logical answer. It was Forrest, he had stayed the night. Looking at the bottom of the door, shadows appeared, signalling that he was standing right by the door. Martha stayed as stiff as a board, wondering if he was going to say something, or not, or at least grumble, but there was nothing.

On the other side of the door, a bead of sweat ran down Forrest’s forehead. His hand was positioned in a tight fist, ready to knock on the door to ask if she wanted breakfast, but it was still early. For Forrest, the day was getting on, he never slept passed half six, but he didn’t know how late Martha slept. It had gone seven, and Forrest was getting hungry himself, he couldn’t begin imagine how Martha felt.

Forrest had stayed the entire night, he had slept on the couch in the front room, managing to find himself a blanket. He only had a sandwich for dinner, whatever Maggie had brought Martha had gone down a treat, which eased Forrest’s mind.

When he didn’t end up knocking on the door, he went downstairs to start breakfast instead, assuming that Martha would come down if she smelt food cooking. He assumed right, and ten minutes after he started cooking, she appeared in the kitchen in her dressing gown.

‘I didn’t know you could cook.’

Forrest turned from the stove to see Martha walking in, a light look on her face. She placed herself at the head of the kitchen table, and watched him cook.

‘Of course, you gotta learn how to look after yourself. Plus, Howard and Jack are awful at cooking.’

The comment made Martha laugh, and it was like music to Forrest’s ears. Martha had realised that it was the first time in a long time that she had laughed, and it felt good. What made it better was the fact that it was Forrest who had made her laugh, and he wasn’t one for telling jokes in the first place.

Forrest plated up the eggs and bacon, and they sat next to each to eat, their knees would often knock against one another. Even though it started as an accident, they ended up just placing their knees close, to begin the rekindling of intimacy. No words were spoken during breakfast, they were both so hungry that there wasn’t a moment to talk.

Once their plates were empty, Martha pushed hers forward and put her arms out on the table, then placed her head on them. A contented feeling had passed through Martha’s body, and she was determined to hold onto it for as long as possible. As an instant reaction from Forrest, he moved his hand forward and began running his fingers through her hair.

‘How’re you feeling?’ Forrest asked. He hoped she would say that she was fine, then he could continue to stroke her hair. It was a new intimacy for Forrest, not like kissing, but it was a closeness, a comforting touch.

‘Better.’

Forrest nodded his head, but Martha didn’t see. She was blinking softly at the sensation of having her hair played with, she knew it wasn’t like Forrest to be so intimate, so she treasured the feeling for as long as it would last.

Since there was a relaxed atmosphere between them, Martha felt calmer, she felt as if she could talk to Forrest. Her head remained on her arms as she spoke.

‘It just … all happened so quickly.’

Forrest’s hand faltered for a second, he wasn’t expecting Martha to begin sharing. He remained quiet as he let her hair slip through his fingers, giving her time to carry on and say more.

‘It took a long time for me to heal when my father died. It was so sudden. He shot himself, Forrest, right in the head.’

Forrest wasn’t going to tell Martha that he already knew the story, that Ray had informed him of how he had died. He thought he might tell her, to avoid making her upset again, but since she remained calm, he guessed it might’ve been a good thing.

‘And now … Poppa.’ Martha sighed loudly. ‘I’ve seen too many dead bodies, just in the space of a year.’

Martha raised her head, and before Forrest could withdraw his hand, Martha took it in her own to hold. She held it up with both hands and stared at it.

‘I thought you were going to be another, Forrest.’ She looked from his hand to meet his gaze. Forrest almost felt guilty for being attacked, he hadn’t wanted to make her so sad by almost dying.

‘Do you understand why I didn’t want to use the gun?’ She asked plainly. Forrest nodded his head, not daring to break eye contact, he understood completely.

Martha looked back to Forrest’s hand held between her own, and was quiet again. She had forgiven Forrest of any blame, of any wrong-doings, and was glad to have him close again. If there were any bad feelings Martha felt, it was due to the house, and how lonely she felt in it. Knowing that Forrest had stayed the night warmed her, to have him close felt like a tangible luxury that she didn’t want to lose. To further the feeling, Martha dared a question.

‘Forrest, I gotta have a bath.’

Then Martha pushed herself, edging close to a boundary.

‘Would you … would you sit with me?’

Martha had expected it, as soon as she finished her question, Forrest took his hand from hers, sliding it from her clutches. He crossed his arms over his chest and his brows furrowed.

‘Mmhm, I don’t know.’

‘I’m not embarrassed.’

There was no more fight in Forrest, he was a sucker for what Martha was doing to him, whatever it was. It had worked, her soft, pleading looks always won him over, and he didn’t protest when Martha rose from her seat and turned to leave the room. He didn’t follow immediately, instead taking the time to clear the plates and wash them, but when the noise of the tap sounded through the house, goose bumps appeared on his arms and on the back of his neck. He told himself it was because she was lonely, and it wasn’t as if he was joining her, he’d sit with her, away from her, and they’d just talk like normal.

The more Forrest thought about it, the more he panicked. He knew that the sight of her, naked in the bathwater, would put him on edge, and she’d give him the look. Martha knew the exact notes to play to make Forrest feel impassioned, and she knew exactly how it seemed, inviting him into the bathroom whilst she bathed. Bathing was such an isolated experience, and she was letting Forrest in.

Forrest had cleaned the plates four times, not knowing when to make his appearance upstairs. When the taps turned off, he waited, hearing every creak on the floorboards, trying to find out where Martha was walking to.

‘Forrest.’

Martha’s sweet voiced called to him, it was his time to go up and see her. As he walked the stairs, Forrest tried thinking of excuses for himself, ways to save Martha’s dignity from his peering eyes, but as he got to the top of the stairs, the bathroom door was ajar. He could hear the sounds of the water trickling from her body, small splashing noises made Forrest nervous, yet his feet kept moving forward.

Forrest came to the door, but didn’t open it. He could see the light inside, and the sounds of water, but a lump grew in his throat. He cleared it, which signalled to Martha that he was there.

‘You can come in, Forrest, it’s alright.’

Forrest did as he was told, no matter if the prudish side of his mind was battling with him. He opened the door slowly, and kept his head low. There was more splashing of water, which caught his attention.

When he looked up, he could see that Martha was watching him. With a flick of his eyes, he could see that there was a flannel covering her chest, hiding an intimate part from him.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest grumbled, and took a few steps forward. As soon as he saw her reserved state, he tore his eyes from her, and thought about sitting on the toilet with the lid down. But then, Forrest thought, he’d have to keep turning his gaze from her, simply because she was naked. He decided to sit on the floor, at the opposite end of the tub from Martha. That way, he could still look at her, but not have to see anything that she didn’t want him to.

It wasn’t in Forrest’s nature to get himself to sit on the floor, there were chairs that did the job, but in the case of Martha’s decency, he did it. For Martha, any form of decency had left when Forrest stepped into the bathroom, there wasn’t much left to hide from each other anymore.

When Forrest had sat down, he watched Martha removed the flannel from her body, she wringed it through and toyed with it. Forrest kept a close eye on her hands, but his thoughts were on how her chest was exposed to the air, jutting out of the water level, and a familiar heat pooled in his stomach, even though it was out of sight for him.

Since Forrest’s thoughts were diverting, he hadn’t said a word to Martha since he came into the room. He was staring at the floor, trying to quieten the mood that was growing in him.

‘I’ve never lived alone before. I don’t think I like it.’

Forrest was glad that Martha was giving him something to think about, something other than her naked body. He looked back up to her, she was lying back, looking up to the ceiling, and not feeling one ounce of shame in her naked body.

‘What about … after your father died?’ Forrest asked.

Martha sighed, then looked down to Forrest. ‘I stayed with friend, on a couch. There were four of us cramped in the apartment. Despite the journey in getting there, I actually liked living with my friends for a while.’

‘Mmhm.’

Despite the arrangement, Forrest on the floor, Martha bare in the bath, Forrest enjoyed the calmness and continuity of Martha talking, she had thoughts on her mind that she wanted to share freely. Forrest looked over to Martha, seeing the steam rising from the water, and a sheen of sweat that grew on her face. He couldn’t help but think how vulnerable she was being with him, he realised that there was trust between them, it had made Martha feel comfortable to share, and for Forrest so see her in such a stripped-back manner. He smiled to himself, just a corner of his lips twitched upwards.

‘What happened to your parents?’ Martha asked, with her delicate voice. It had occurred to her that she had no idea of Forrest’s history, not like he knew hers. She didn’t know if it was a sore subject, so had asked with trepidation.

‘Dead. Spanish flu.’

Forrest’s answer was so blunt, there wasn’t much thought to it, but had looked up quickly when Martha gasped in response.

‘That’s how my mother died.’ She revealed.

Forrest had wondered about Martha’s mother, if she was in the picture or not. She had never been mentioned, not by Ray or Martha, so Forrest assumed that she was no longer. To know that she had died in the same way as his parents, he and Martha had an awful connection in that sense, it affected his heart somewhat.

Martha sat up in the bath, her chest was still hidden to Forrest, and she moved herself to the far side of the tub. This riled Forrest up, he shifted a little, and tried to avert his eyes, but couldn’t look away for long, not with the longing look Martha was giving him.

When she reached the far end of the tub, the water was splashing around her, she put and arm over the side to reach for Forrest. Like when they were sat at the kitchen table, she took one of his hands in hers to hold close. Forrest felt how wet her hands were, and revelled in how close she was.

‘Oh Forrest.’ Martha sighed. It was almost close to a moan, the way his name fell from her lips made Forrest swallow thickly and he just watched her, in wonder of what she might’ve done next.

Martha had turned her head so Forrest’s hand could be flush against her cheek, he didn’t need to move at all, she was doing it all herself, bringing him close to touch her.

‘I think … I need some looking after, just for a little bit. Can you look after me, Forrest?’ Martha whispered, her bright eyes gazing at him wondrously.

‘Mmhm.’

It was an automatic response from Forrest, and he thought that Martha was going to tell him off for being so vague, but she did nothing but smile, it was the sweetest and purest of smiles. What Forrest really wanted to tell her, what was brimming in his mind but he didn’t have the courage for, was yes, anything you want, I would truly die for you, it would be all for you. Instead, Forrest took his hand to stroke against Martha’s cheek softly, feeling her damp, flushed skin beneath his. It was a treat to have her so close, he didn’t want it to end.


	20. Thoughtful Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

Martha still meant by what she had mentioned to Forrest, it was strange being in the house alone. She had never lived on her own before, not once. There were positives and negatives, she could have the bathroom whenever she wanted, not be bothered by someone telling her off if she went to bed late or had a lie-in whenever she wanted. If she made a mess, she would clean it up, there was no worrying about other people’s dirty plate, or dirty clothes. However, there were negatives as well. When Forrest would drop her off in the evenings, she’d go into an empty house, one where there was no one to greet her and ask how her day went. There was no one to watch the sunsets with, to sit out on the back porch and be with someone.

Martha tried to fill the loneliness with reading a book, but it wasn’t the same as having someone. People at work had been treating her differently, not knowing how she would be after the funeral. Forrest made her stay home a few more days, thinking that she wasn’t ready yet, but Martha was desperate to get out of the house and be useful in some capacity. Forrest wanted to ease her in gently, to have her just work two or three days’ maximum, but since Martha used her Poppa’s old truck to get around, he wasn’t able to drive her home if she showed up unannounced. Forrest decided to not get angry with Martha, she was only trying to get back to her old routine, so let her work her normal number of shifts.

Maggie was delicate with Martha at first, taking over from her if there was an angry or handsy customer, thinking that it would only upset her. Martha took it all in her stride, her head was clear enough to know that Maggie was only being a friend and looking out for her. Jack and Howard were the same. Jack stayed friendly like normal, but would never initiate too much of a conversation, in fear that he might say something wrong. For Howard, he was just worried that he’d say something rude. Martha suspected that Forrest must have told him to keep quiet, it wasn’t like Howard to be so reserved around Martha and Maggie.

There had been a change for the better when Martha got back to work. Even though the other three were treating Martha like she was made of porcelain, Forrest didn’t consider her any differently. Forrest wasn’t going to let Martha feel isolated at work, and had her in his study when they had dinner. He’d asked her to share lunch with him, but Martha politely declined, saying how she still wanted to read to Cricket.

Like before, Forrest let Martha have more than an hour for lunch, and he’d watch her from upstairs in his room. A smile would appear on his lips when Martha was acting dramatic, she’d embody every character for Cricket’s sake, and he loved it. There was something so simple and pure about it.

At dinner, Martha would plate up meals for both her and Forrest, and ignore the gazes that Maggie and the customers gave her as she let herself into his study. Forrest was more comfortable in talking about his day, and explaining some of the numbers in the books, which meant he was trusting her a little more. Martha would then talk about her day, how many customers she had served and relay what she had read to Cricket. Forrest would cherish the shared meal, since he no longer had the privilege of driving Martha home anymore. The study wasn’t the most private of rooms, nowhere near as private as the car, so it had to do.

In truth, Forrest thought that Martha shouldn’t have been living on her own at the house. Greg still came around every day to work on the farm, but he knew that Martha thought it was a tie, she didn’t have an interest in farming, even though it was earning her a decent wage. He hadn’t brought up the subject with her, Martha would’ve known what to do when the time came.

Although the study had a cubby, which looked out onto the main floor of the Station, Forrest kept Martha close to him. He’d put his leg out to touch her, and when they’d finished their dinner, they’d sit and hold hands for a while. They still hadn’t announced any kind of relationship, but they felt that they didn’t have to.

* * *

 

Since Martha was still undecided about what to do with the farm, she carried on going to her weekly solicitor meetings to gain a better understanding of her options. Martha had thought about just putting the land up for sale, along with the stables and animals, and had left that with Mr Clayton, her advisor, in their last meeting.

As Martha sat down at Mr Clayton’s desk, she wasn’t expecting much from him, but she was to be proved wrong.

‘Well, Miss Lawrence,’ Mr Clayton started, putting his hands together on the desk, ‘it’s been a good week.’

Martha raised her eyebrows in surprise, and waited for him to continue.

‘There’s a buyer, from Charlotte, who’s very interested in the land.’

‘I didn’t expect something so quick.’

‘Nor did I. But there is a catch.’

Mr Clayton paused, and shuffled a few papers on his desk, building up the moment. ‘He wants not only the land, but the house as well.’

‘Oh.’

‘And, if you’re willing to move in the next two weeks, he’ll add another five hundred on the asking price.’

Martha’s head jolted back in shock. It was too good to take in, and Martha hesitated for a moment.

‘Can I … can I get back to you?’

‘I’d be a careless advisor if I didn’t tell you to think about it. But this buyer is keen, and I’d say don’t leave it too long, you’ve been presented with a very good deal, Miss Lawrence.’

Martha shook Mr Clayton’s hand and promised she’d take no longer than a day to figure things out. A sense of relief came over Martha as she left the building, and she let a smile appear on her lips. It was a great deal, too good to be true, but she had to go to someone else to talk it through. That person was Forrest.

Martha took her Poppa’s old truck to the Station, the thought of the deal brimming in her mind. When Martha drove down the dirt road to the Station, she saw that Forrest was out on the porch, he was silently smoking a cigar.

‘Morning, Martha.’ He greeted, getting up from his chair.

‘Hello Forrest, do you mind talking? I need to ask you something.’

Forrest nodded his head, and led the way to his study. There was a panic that rushed through him, Martha had sounded serious, he didn’t know what to expect. They sat in their usual places, Forrest at his desk and Martha on her chair, and Forrest waited patiently.

‘There’s someone who wants to buy the land.’

Forrest did no more than nod, at least it was good news.

‘But, they want the house as well, so I’d have to move out if I agree.’

There was a hopeful look on Martha’s face, and Forrest didn’t know what to say. He’d been thinking that Martha’s should move into the Station, to be around people, but it had alone been a fleeting thought at first. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of Martha close by.

‘Mmhm.’

‘Forrest, I want you to tell me what to do.’

‘Martha … this is your decision, it’s your house, you’ve gotta make the choice.’

It wasn’t what Martha wanted to hear, and she kept going until Forrest said the right words.

‘What should I do Forrest? Tell me what you’re thinking.’

There was a split second where Forrest stared into Martha’s eyes, trying to read her mind. He thought it was the best time to lay down his idea.

‘Move to the Station. That’s what I think you should do.’

That was what Martha had been waiting for, but she carried on, making sure that it was clear.

‘Is that what you want?’

‘Mmhm.’ But then Forrest corrected himself, knowing that Martha didn’t always appreciate his grumbles.

‘Yes, I want you here.’

Relief washed over Martha, and she smiled at Forrest.

‘Good, then it’s sorted.’

They both felt enthusiastic about the idea, thinking that it was a new step in the relationship, something positive and exciting to look forward to. Martha went straight back to Mr Clayton from the Station, not wasting a moment, and signed all of the relevant papers that day.

The room that was available in the Station was on the top floor, it was a decent size, just a bit smaller than Martha’s bedroom at the old house. Martha thought that there were a few more things to worry about moving that time around, there was all of the furniture in the house that she wouldn’t be able to take to the Station. Mr Clayton had said that the buyer wanted to keep a few things, such as bed frames and the kitchen table and chairs, but there were still big items that she had to sort out. Luckily, Forrest was there to handle everything. He wanted to make the move as seamless as possible for Martha, worried that at any moment she’d have second thoughts. It was a big ask for Martha, to leave the home and go into a house with three other men, but it wasn’t as if they were strangers. A part of Martha wanted to share a room with Forrest, to be even closer to him, but it would’ve been too forward. That didn’t mean that Martha stopped thinking about the idea, however.

It took them only one trip in her Poppa’s truck to take her clothes and a few furniture items over to the Station. Since the house wasn’t bare, it was a strange goodbye for Martha. She was taking photographs with her, so it wasn’t as if she was leaving him, but the house itself held a lot of memories for Martha, it was the first house she’d lived in since her father died. That meant a lot in itself, it was the place in which she began to live her life again.

There was one thing that Martha had to hide away in a suitcase, and that was the balls of wool and half completed cardigan. She had begun creating it out of boredom, not being at work meant she wasn’t using her hands or mind, and knitting was something to pass the time. When she had begun knitting was when Forrest had started paying for the solicitor and accountant fees, and Martha thought about a way to say thank you. She could’ve told him those words, and truly meant them, but it wasn’t the same as a gift of thanks, a hand-made present meant something special. She thought that Forrest would be happy with it, he wore cardigans all the time, and since it would’ve come from her, there would be sentimental value to it. By the time she moved to the Station, she was just about two-thirds of the way to completing it. She’d have to be sneaky and complete it in her room, she was banking of the element of surprise with Forrest.

Life at the Station was busy for Martha, there wasn’t much time to have to herself, and the only place she’d could be alone in was her bedroom. Forrest did wonder if that bothered her, thinking that a woman would’ve wanted her privacy, but Martha didn’t complain once, since there was nothing to complain about, truthfully. She had her work just two floor down, so the commute wasn’t bad, and there was always someone to talk to, and most importantly, Forrest was there. Martha still read to Cricket at lunchtimes, and sat with Forrest to eat dinner, nothing much had changed, apart from bedtime, when she’d walk upstairs, and look over to Forrest’s bedroom door before entering her own. His room was agonisingly just across from hers, and Martha was usually the first one to go to bed, but there were times when they’d walk up together, and say goodnight. They’d then disappear into their own rooms, and be alone again. Martha would get to her room in the evenings and do some knitting, often working until her eyes couldn’t bare being open any longer. She’d sit at her dressing table, working by the lamp light, trying to get it done quickly. She couldn’t wait to see his face when she gave it to him.

For Forrest, when he’d close the door at night-time, he felt alone, like it wasn’t right that he was going to bed on his own. He’d strip everything off, the July heat would carry on into the night, and get into bed. He led as stiff as a board on his back, and think about how Martha was just a few metres from him. Forrest had gotten what he wanted, Martha was living at the Station where he could look after her, but he didn’t know what to do from there. Surely, it would’ve been natural progression to marry, but he knew that it would’ve been too soon to ask something like that from her.

A few more days passed, Howard and Jack were fine with Martha moving in, they thought that the Station needed a woman’s touch. They also knew that Forrest was keen with the move, they sometimes talked between them about how he’d changed over the months that had passed, possibly for the better. Both of them thought that the arrangement would’ve led to marriage, it wouldn’t have been Forrest’s nature to let someone as good Martha to pass him by.

When Martha had finally finished the cardigan, she made a trip into town to purchase some brown paper to wrap it in. The money she had received from the house and farm, and from what her Poppa had tucked away, meant that she was set for life. Martha promised herself to be sensible with it, there was nothing that she needed, but she had thought about asking Forrest if he wanted her to pay rent for the room. She could’ve guessed his reaction, but all that money was there and not being used. The money, until she knew what she wanted to do with it, was spent on small, frivolous things, such as the wrapping for Forrest’s present. Martha chose a simple brown wrapping, Forrest wouldn’t have wanted anything special, and when Martha got back, she took her time in covering it. She thought that Forrest wouldn’t have thought much about the wrapping, but it was a process she wanted to take care in.

There was no time during the day for Martha to give it to Forrest, she wanted it to be just to two of them, where Forrest wouldn’t feel embarrassed, or felt like he had to hide his reaction. It ended up being at the end of the day, Martha had gone up to bed first, and she kept her door open to listen out for Forrest.

His heavy footsteps were soon heard, and Martha jumped up quickly, the present in her hands. She came to the threshold of her door, and the light illuminated Forrest’s face as he appeared from the steps.

‘Forrest?’ Martha called.

‘Mmhm?’ Forrest stayed by the staircase, eyeing the package that was in Martha’s hands.

Martha stumbled over her words at first, suddenly not knowing how to talk to Forrest. The curious look he was giving her wasn’t scrutinising, and he cocked his head in interest.

‘This … this is for you.’ She stepped forward and showed him the present. She looked up hopefully to Forrest, and he looked down, creasing his brows. He breathed out loudly, it was almost a sigh, and Martha thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to take it, but he did.

Martha hadn’t wrapped it properly, there was no string holding it together, so it didn’t take Forrest long to undo the wrapping. He held the cardigan up to the light, trying to figure out what it was, and once he did, his features softened and he looked to Martha.

Before Forrest could speak, Martha went ahead to explain herself.

‘I know it’s summer, not the time to be wearing it, but you can save it, and wear it later in the year.’

‘Mmhm.’

It was the response that Martha hated, Forrest realised that as soon as he did it.

‘Forrest …’

‘Thank you, Martha.’ Forrest corrected himself. ‘It’s extremely thoughtful of you.’ A smile appeared on Martha’s lips, that was good enough for her.

‘Did you make this?’ Forrest asked. At first, he thought it was from a store, but when he looked properly at it, he saw no label on the collar, a clear indication that it was homemade.

‘Yeah, I did.’

The corner of Forrest’s mouth turned up, he was almost shocked silent that Martha had done something so special for him. He reached a hand out to stroke Martha’s cheek, but the loving gesture wasn’t enough, and Forrest felt the urge to bring her closer. Martha was thinking the same as Forrest, and reached her hands up to hold onto the sides of his head as their lips connected. With the cardigan still in his hand, he brought it to Martha’s waist and pulled her even closer, if that was possible. The fronts of their bodies were together, not an inch separated them.

When they ran out of breath, they parted, Martha’s hands remained holding Forrest close. They began nipping each other’s lips, trying to elicit something more from the intimacy, but kissing wasn’t enough anymore. With their bodies so close, they felt the heat rise from each other, Martha was shifting a little, her way of getting closer, and Forrest couldn’t help but react to it. He thought about moving his hips backwards, not wanting Martha to feel how much she affected him, but Martha just moved herself forward to close the gap. She was impressed that she’d made Forrest respond in such a way, she smiled into the kisses that they continued to share.

‘We still makin’ that run tomorrow, Forrest?!’

Howard’s untimely shout from the floor below made them jump back from each other.

‘Yeah.’ Forrest called back. He closed his eyes in annoyance, and turned back to Martha. She was already a step away from him, slightly embarrassed at almost being caught.

‘Goodnight, Forrest.’

Forrest gave in, it was clear that the moment had been ruined, so he accepted it.

‘Night, Martha.’

With the cardigan tight in his hands, Forrest went into his own room. He closed the door behind him, hating that Martha wasn’t with him, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He exhaled heavily, and tried to clear his mind, but his body wasn’t on the same understanding. He tried to fight it, he didn’t want to give in to his urges.

Forrest placed the cardigan down on his dresser gently, and stroked it. It was unexpected, and he didn’t think he was so deserving of such a gift, but that was how Martha was, and he loved her for it.

He froze realising that it was the first time he’d thought of that word. It was bizarre to think that he had thought of marriage first, and then love, Forrest guessed that he loved Martha before he realised it. It could’ve been when he had first met Martha, she had run out of the house and over to him to ask if Jack was alright after being beaten up. Forrest realised that that was the moment he had fallen for her.

With his feelings warming his heart, he stripped his clothes off, and was exposed to the night air. It was warm, the day had been sweltering, and his body state hadn’t changed. Forrest still ignored the heat as he got into bed and led on his back, the state of his body was clear from the tenting in the bed sheets, and Forrest had to give in.

He reached a hand down slowly, and once he grabbed himself, he let out something between a wince and a groan. Forrest never usually touched himself so freely, but going to sleep with an erection was worse in that moment, he had concluded. He thought about Martha, who else was there to think about? He reimagined the way she had pressed her body against his, like she was trying to feel his hard cock for herself, without making it obvious. He imagined her lying next to him, just as exposed as he was, and how they’d touch each other. They spent so much time thinking about being closer, getting closer than their lips connecting, and that would be the moment. Forrest would see Martha properly, there would be no flannel covering her, her breasts would be for his eyes only. Then he’d make his way down her body, trying to savour every inch, and he’d stop at the top of Martha’s thighs. He’d kiss her there like he had kissed her lips, Forrest could only imagine the sweet moans she’d sing for him, how she’d writhe beneath his body, all for him.

That night, Forrest slept alone once again, but he didn’t feel lonely anymore.


	21. Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

Forrest willed himself not to get carried away at nights anymore, and several days had passed where he had stayed true to his word. Martha, on the other hand, couldn’t believe what she had felt the night she gave him the gift. They were only kissing, but she had no idea that kissing could stimulate such responses out of a man. She wanted to feel more from him, she tried to keep her body close to have it rub against her, but Howard and his loud mouth had to ruin it all. When they parted, Martha wondered if Forrest would’ve sorted his situation out. Since she had no more knitting to do, she had a right mind to go into his room and sort it for him, but stopped herself, thinking that it would’ve been a terrible idea.

Instead, Martha led on her back, her mind awake with the thought of what she felt against her body. When she had been dating her old beau, James, they never went as far and had sex with each other. Both of them promised to wait until marriage, if that ever came to fruition. However, that didn’t mean they didn’t experiment. Being so young, and knowing that all their friends were doing the same thing, they got intimate a few times, and for them, that meant getting naked on a silly dare, a dare they gave each other, so they stripped. They spent time gazing at each other’s bodies, and eventually plucked up the courage to touch one another. There was nothing suggestive at first, it had felt more educational than sexy, but it had brought them together. They had shared an intimate experience for the first time, and it felt good.

Martha didn’t think that Forrest was one for educational experiences, and wondered just what he would’ve done if he came into her room that moment, the bulge in his pants showing its presence to her. A laugh escaped her lips, she couldn’t believe what she was thinking, and cursed herself for it, although she was still giggling over it as she went to sleep.

The Bondurant’s were busier than ever with the business, making runs almost every day, and with the giant still that had been built in the forest, the runs had to made to keep up with how much they were producing. This left Maggie and Martha alone in the Station a lot, although Forrest didn’t like it.

Maggie had turned back to her usually self, and began treating Martha like a sister. They found their groove again, and did their jobs well enough to make the men happy. Martha had a thought to ask Maggie about sex, as well as all the do’s and don’ts, but held back, she didn’t want people knowing that she and Forrest were getting too serious. Martha wanted the moment to happen when no one else knew about it, or predicted it.

* * *

 

It was a late July afternoon, custom was regular, but there was nothing to be excited about. Maggie and Martha were working and chatting, finding new things to discuss, and they’d flick through the magazines she’d bring in to read. Forrest and Howard were out delivering shine, they had been gone all morning, and Martha found herself looking over to Forrest’s study every once in a while. Nothing had changed after the night that Martha had given him the cardigan, they still ate their meals in the study, and had taken to spending some time on the porch together. The sun didn’t face the porch in the evenings, but with Forrest next to her, Martha didn’t mind a jot. It was clear to her that Forrest had felt embarrassed from what had happened, or not embarrassed enough to end up ignoring her because of it.

Martha had just served another slice of pecan pie to the fat gentleman placed precariously on the counter stool, judging whether the third slice would be the one to finish him off. The sound of a car pulling up outside caught her attention, she wondered if it was another customer, or if it was Forrest and Howard, back for the day. Her second guess ended up being right, and both men were talking amongst themselves as they walked up the porch and came into the Station.

Howard came straight over to the counter to get some food, Maggie sorted out his order. Martha looked over to Forrest, who was lingering by the doorway, waiting for her to make eye contact. Once she had, he beckoned her over to him. She did as she was told, and went over to his side.

‘Is everything alright?’ She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

‘Mmhm. I just, uh, wanted to take you out somewhere, for the afternoon.’

‘Oh.’ Martha smiled. Forrest had never taken her out before, not if she had counted the dance. ‘I’ll put my things away.’

Martha didn’t ask where Forrest was taking her, she just went along with it. He had a small smile in his lips as he walked them both out of the Station and to the car, and kept that smile as he opened the passenger door for her. For good measure, Forrest slapped Martha on her behind playfully. She almost lost her footing, and when she looked over her shoulder at him, a good-humoured look was on his face. It was because of his mood that Martha didn’t ask any questions, he’d obviously had a good day, and now he wanted to spend the rest of it with her.

The warm air raced passed them as Forrest drove to the mystery location, and Martha felt contented as the sun settled on her skin, warming up her body. They went to a part of town Martha had never been to before, right to the base of one of the mountains. He parked the car near a dirt track, and they both got out.

‘A walk?’ She asked, looking up at the path trailing up to the top of the mountain.

‘A walk.’ Forrest replied, still teasing, but still not giving anything away.

They started the walk together, but not in a fast pace, they had time to kill and Forrest wanted to make it last as long as possible. They had begun to walk side by side, Martha keeping in pace with Forrest’s heavy footsteps, and soon enough, because she knew there was no one around, she snaked her arm around his. It caught him by surprise at first, they hadn’t yet walked arm in arm, but he accepted it, and gave Martha an endearing smile in approval.

Forrest wasn’t wearing a cardigan, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. This meant that Martha could touch more than his bare hands, she was running her fingers up his strong forearm as they walked. This loving action occurred up until Forrest stopped walking, Martha had been focused on what she was doing, and finally looked up to see why Forrest had taken them there.

The hot, orange sun was blazing down on them, setting on the far left of the horizon, it was a phenomenal sight to see. It lit up their faces in a healthy glow, the breeze swirled around them gently, pulling at Martha’s skirt and rousing her curls from her shoulders.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Martha whispered, just loud enough for Forrest to hear. It was a true enough statement, but as Forrest looked down to his left, to see Martha looking out to the landscape, he thought that it was her that made the view worthwhile. He needn’t have said it, it was a thought that he kept to himself.

‘One thing I miss about the old house is the porch, it was the perfect place to see the day out. I mean, we did so together, when I was recovering.’

‘That’s right, like a couple of old folks, on the porch.’ Forrest noted, thinking about the memory with fondness.

Martha looked out to the horizon once again, but her thoughts were drawing to where her arm was touching, holding onto Forrest’s arm.

‘I love being like this, Forrest.’

‘Mmhm?’

Martha knew she could get the same response from him like the other night, she wanted him to react to her intimate touch again.

‘Close, alone. There’s no one around.’

Forrest looked back down to Martha, her eyes looked expectant up to his, and he had no reason to argue with her. Before he did anything, he took a moment to feel her, to note where she was touching him on his arm, and to her other hand, that went up to his chest, gripping lightly to where his shirt opened. She had hold of him, but she didn’t pull him closer, she was waiting for Forrest to take control. He did so accordingly.

The distance to Martha’s lips was short, she’d had been so close to begin with. Martha’s arms wrapped around his large shoulders, linking behind his warm neck, she ended up going on tip toes to get closer, and to lean into him. Forrest enveloped his arms around her waist, and dared to go lower. Martha’s skirt was whipping in the wind, creating a fluttering sound, and Forrest slid a hand down to her behind, holding down the skirt with the weight of it. He ended up moving it lower than he expected at first, going from a cheek down to the middle, the place where he had dreamt about the other night. Over her dress, Forrest let his fingers slid as low as they could go, and underneath her behind. When he pushed up slightly, Martha gasped, the sensation made her legs spread a little, and she looked into Forrest’s glowering eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Martha wasn’t going to be the one to stop him.

Martha went back in for another kiss, but Forrest dipped his head to rest his forehead against hers, stopping the connection between their lips.

‘Not here.’ Forrest’s voice croaked. Although he was saying that they should’ve stopped, his hands remained on her waist and intimately close to her core.

‘Forrest.’ Martha breathed out. Her legs were weak, she wanted to carry on, but soon realised that being outside wasn’t the best place to get intimate, not for their first time, anyway.

The walk back to the car seemed endless, Martha put her hand around Forrest’s arm like before, but it was different the second time, the energy between them was palpable, and the heat between her legs distracted her badly. It was as if Martha needed to be touched in that moment, or she’d die of something awful.

Forrest couldn’t ignore what was happening in his trousers, but at that point, it was no longer embarrassment he felt, just frustration, a pure carnal frustration. The drive back was even worse, his body hadn’t settled from the walk, not when Martha had been keeping her body close to his, the feeling of her hand on his forearm was enough to keep his feelings up.

When they got back to the Station, there was hardly any custom about, so Forrest made Maggie close the kitchen down early. The latest they would usually close was around ten, so for Maggie, getting home a couple of hours early wasn’t something she was going to pass up on. Forrest had walked straight into his study, not saying anything to Jack, who began helping clear everything away.

‘Is Forrest alright?’ He asked, wiping some plates dry.

‘Yeah, Forrest’s fine.’ But Martha didn’t know whether to believe her own words. If Forrest was in a grumpy mood, it was because of her, she had brought herself close to him, but he had decided that it wasn’t the right time. Martha recalled what he had said, ‘not here,’ which meant that there would be a place for them, eventually. He was clearly thinking the same as her, that there was no point trying to fight the feelings between them, and that they’d just become frustrated and distant with each other if they carried on with their nonsense.

Martha’s nerves felt as if they were on fire when she helped close down the Station that night. Before Maggie left, she, Jack and Martha ate their dinner together, Forrest had unexpectedly stayed in his office to eat. Both Maggie and Jack looked to Martha for answer, thinking that she and Forrest had a fight whilst they were out, but Martha didn’t let on to anything, it didn’t bother her that Forrest wanted to eat alone. She knew that he was saving himself from her, he must’ve felt something strong if he couldn’t bear to be around her.

Maggie said her goodbye’s just after eight, and that left Jack and Martha downstairs. Usually, Martha would still be working at that point in the evening, but since there was nothing to do, she said goodnight to Jack. On her way up, she went up to the cubby in Forrest’s study, and saw his body turned from hers. She didn’t make herself known to him before she started speaking.

‘Goodnight, Forrest.’

Forrest turned his head to the side as he heard Martha speak, acknowledging that she was there, but he didn’t say anything in reply. Martha thought it was odd, but didn’t bother him any further.

The walk up to her bedroom was slow, Martha was listening out for the study door opening. She walked the first flight of stairs, up to the first floor, but there hadn’t been any sound. But as Martha walked the next set, she heard the sound of the study door opening, then closing, and the faint rumbles of Forrest saying goodnight to Jack.

Martha’s heart started beating frantically, he was making his way upstairs, up to see her. Her legs started shaking, she had to hold onto the bannister to heave herself up the last couple of steps, her body was on edge knowing that Forrest was just behind her, and that he would catch up with her.

Once at the top, Martha waited, knowing that Forrest was coming up to see her. She swallowed thickly, and her heart skipped a beat when Forrest’s footsteps got closer, and she eventually saw the top of his head. He looked up, and she remained fierce eye contact with him as he got to the top of the stairs. They shared a look, a fiery look, one that affected their movements, neither of them had made a move to each other yet.

‘Here?’ Martha asked, desperation was slipping from her tongue for Forrest to pick up on. She looked at him with wide eyes, not daring to blink in case she would’ve missed something.

Without saying a word, Forrest stepped forward and placed a hand in Martha’s. He brought it up to his lips, kissed it chastely, then pulled her gently to his door. Martha followed blindly, letting Forrest take control of her movements. He still had hold of her as the door closed behind them, they were finally alone in the confines of Forrest’s room.

They came together with a small kiss, that was the limit they’d gone to before, but the excitement in knowing that they were going to go further meant that they didn’t feel rushed. Forrest let his hands trail up Martha’s arms, to the set of buttons on her dress, they trailed down her chest. With steady hands, he undid one, then another, then another, all the while his lips stayed joined with hers, they kept kissing and worked around it, they had to keep the contact between them.

Before Martha could take a breath, Forrest brought his hands down to the sides of her legs, feeling the bare skin underneath. His fingertips went from her thighs to the fabric of her dress. With one swift pull, he brought the dress over her head, revealing more of Martha’s body. She didn’t feel the need to act shy, Forrest had been in the bathroom with her beforehand, and most importantly, Forrest was to undress next.

Forrest tried to paw at the back of Martha’s bra, attempting to remove another piece of clothing, but she pushed his arms to the side and went to the buttons on his shirt. With Martha trying to concentrate with the tiny buttons, Forrest looked down at her, breathing heavily, expanding his chest and keeping a stern gaze on her. This made Martha’s hands shake a little, being watched so vehemently made her mind fuzzy, feeling the heat from Forrest’s exposed chest warmed her cheeks, and her throat went dry with the small grunts made at the back of his throat, almost animalistic in the way they sounded.

When all the buttons were undone, Forrest shook the shirt off and threw it to the side. There wasn’t time for Martha to look at the small grooves and scars on his chest, Forrest’s hands went straight to his belt, and he whipped it off. Martha watched as his trousers went next, it was the most she’d seen of him, and she wanted to put a hand out to touch. Again, she couldn’t do so, as Forrest went ahead and went for her bra, finding the hook at the back. He had brought himself closer again, the space between them didn’t exist, and Martha reached her head up to kiss sweetly at his jaw, reminding him that she wanted to be gentle, and to not hurry things.

With his fingers, Forrest brought the straps of the bra down Martha’s arms, the dim, artificial light was enough to see Martha’s chest, the part she had hidden with a flannel in the bath. Like all the other items of clothing, the bra was thrown to the side, and Forrest brought a hand to Martha’s cheek. She wasn’t shy, she knew what Forrest wanted to see, and felt emboldened by that fact. Forrest connected their lips, when their bodies came together once more he felt her soft breasts against his hard chest, and his cock twitched because of it.

In each other’s embrace, Forrest let his hands wander, down to the last piece of clothing on Martha. He hooked his thumbs to push the soft, silk underwear to the floor, but didn’t move back to see the newly exposed area. Instead, before Forrest had realised, Martha brought her hands to him, giving his underwear a tug downwards, which left both of them exposed to each other.

That was when they parted, knowing exactly what was to happen next. They hastily took of their shoes, sharing a smile as they dropped them to the floor. With the smiles still on their lips, Forrest moved a strand of hair behind Martha’s ear, taking a moment to calm the situation between them.

When they had both calmed their nerves, Forrest brought Martha to the foot of the mattress, and pushed on her shoulders lightly. Martha went with the motion, falling on her behind, then moved herself back to the pillows. She moved slowly, Forrest stayed standing, his naked body illuminated by the light, there was nothing that Martha couldn’t see. It was the same for Forrest, as he watched Martha’s legs fall open then they’d closed for a moment as she shifted backward, not moving her eyes from his. Once Martha settled herself, bringing her legs together in a teasing manner, Forrest brought one knee down to the end of the mattress, then the other. All the while, his impassioned gaze was heightened by the lewdness of his straining erection, it didn’t bother Forrest, but Martha couldn’t help but run her gaze over it a few times, seeing it coming closer to her.

Forrest knelt before Martha, his broad body shadowing hers, and with a hand, he parted her legs slowly. As he parted them, he brought his body down, the pads of his fingers traced down the inside of Martha’s thigh, finally reaching her wet core. He put an arm above her head, leaning it so he could be in Martha’s eye line, but his right hand remained cupping her, eliciting soft mewls and whimpers from her raw lips. Groans formed at the back of Forrest’s throat, and he nipped tenderly at Martha’s lips, making his way down to the column of her throat, he could feel her swallowing beneath his lips.

From Martha’s throat, Forrest kissed and nipped down her collarbones, making sure they were both tended to, then down the valley of her breasts. His hand remained on her core, he hadn’t needed to move it with Martha writhing beneath him, she had been doing all of the work for him. As he left faint marks on her breasts, Forrest trailed his fingers up, they were coated in her dampness, and he aimed for the sweet spot. When the pads of his fingers brushed over it the first time, Martha’s back arched, pushing her body up to Forrest’s mouth.

‘Forrest …’ She whimpered, bringing a hand down to his hair, trying to find her grip. Her other hand was clenching the sheets beside her, her nails were just digging into her skin through the fabric. The legs spread to accommodate Forrest’s body were trembling, the urge to close them around him was prohibited by his bare waist being in the way.

Martha gasped and shuddered at the sensation of Forrest’s finger circling her, and she could feel his lips making their way back up to her neck. She dared open her eyes at the sight before he, and she saw Forrest’s concentration at nipping her burning skin, then leaving a soft kiss in its place. He returned his body to meet her eye line, and his wandering fingers parted from her sweet spot. In its place, Forrest’s hot, straining cock rubbed and teased at core, purposely done by Forrest himself.

‘Martha …’ Forrest’s drawl tumbled from his lips, the vibrations that ran down his throat could be felt by Martha’s grasping hand.

‘Please, Forrest.’ Marth begged, moving her hips down, to continue the pressure from Forrest. She had confirmed to carry on, Martha needed Forrest in that moment.

Forrest didn’t hesitate, he lifted his body up a few inches, and gripped at Martha’s waist, to control her body. With Forrest’s hands otherwise occupied, Martha took her right hand from Forrest’s hot neck, and brought it down to Forrest’s cock. It was an unexpected move, both of them thought, but Martha felt confident, so acted on it.

She brought her fingers around him, finally feeling how thick he was, how much he was straining for her, and guided him closer. Martha let go once she felt him pushing into her, Forrest had her hips steady, and Martha’s hand fell back at the sensation. Forrest was slow, taking his time in watching Martha react with short breaths.

‘Bring your hand down again.’ Forrest ordered. Martha looked him dead in the eye, and saw the emboldened look, and she brought her hand down to him.

It wasn’t what Forrest meant, so he brought his lips to her ear, and whispered to her.

‘No. Touch yourself, Martha.’

There was a slight hesitation, but felt her fingers moving to her sweet spot, to where Forrest had held her, and rubbed slow circles, closing her eyes at the sudden sensation. This encouraged Forrest to push his body down, filling her whole with his member. Martha gasped loudly, her arms shook as she continued touching herself, under Forrest’s orders.

Martha became used to Forrest’s size, and the feeling of him inside her, soon enough. To change the pace, Forrest took both of Martha’s hands and brought them above her head, leaving her clutching for purchase, but only being able to hold onto Forrest’s strong hand. He brought the other hand back down to her hip, holding her once more, as he sheathed himself in her core, going down to the hilt of his member, then out to the tip.

Small groans elicited from Forrest’s lips, the feeling of her tight core, was making his mind fuzzy, but he kept his pace up. He brought his chest down to Martha’s, a sheen of sweat was growing on his forehead, his hips working steadily. He kept his head steady, and brought his lips down to Martha’s, since she couldn’t use her hands, her lips were the only way to communicate, she was desperate to feel Forrest’s plump lips and teasing tongue against her.

Even with their connected lips, Martha couldn’t help but whimper and moan into Forrest, her quivering limbs were betraying her, and a pool of heat gathered in her lower body. Her legs wrapped around Forrest’s rolling hips, bringing him as close as possible.

Their bodies shook with one another, Forrest had spilled into Martha, she cried and forced her head back on the pillow, her body was trembling uncontrollably against his. Forrest slowed his pace, still wanting to be inside her, close to her, but as they both came to their senses, he had to let go of her hands and wiped at his brow. He slipped from inside of her, but kept her body close to his. Forrest could feel his and Martha’s cum on himself, he was sure Martha was just as bad, but they didn’t move for a minute.

The feeling of bliss that caught them wasn’t to be thrown away, Forrest held Martha in his arms, her body had calmed and her moans had ceased, but she was desperate to keep close, and their lips coupled once more, relishing the post-coital pleasure for the first time.


	22. Poor Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

When Martha woke up in Forrest’s arms, it was as if she had found what she’d been missing. She had spent three weeks of figuring out what it was, getting close to Forrest, but not close enough. They decided that there was no point wasting any time together, Martha wasn’t going back to the room across the landing, her place was in Forrest’s room, with him.

The atmosphere didn’t change greatly between them, they remained professional when down on the main floor, but Jack knew that something had happened. He wasn’t intentionally listening in that night, but it was hard not to hear them. He was smart enough to keep his mouth shut the next day, but couldn’t hide a smile from Forrest, who gave a stern look in return. Forrest wasn’t going to go around and spill the beans on what had occurred, he was sure that word would soon travel, and as long as Martha was fine with it, he had no reason for it to bother him.

They shared their dinner’s together, both acting like a proper, courting couple, but they knew what was going to happen when they went upstairs. They no longer had to say goodnight and part from one another, they’d go straight into Forrest’s room.

Forrest helped Martha move a few of her things across the hall, the room was still there for her to use for whatever she wanted, but Martha thought it was more appropriate to share the chest of drawers and the bedside tables in Forrest’s room. It made sense to do so, and Martha liked seeing her dresses folded up with Forrest’s cardigans. Forrest never bothered with folding his clothes, he just made his things neat enough, but Martha went after him and made sure they were neater, his trousers were folded and put away if they were still clean, and she hung his cardigans on the back of the chair. Forrest gave a grumble when he first saw what she had done, but it wasn’t out of annoyance, just an appreciation of the care that she had for trivial things, his possessions hadn’t seen a woman’s touch, and it was a new feeling for him.

Forrest didn’t even mind when Martha put a small vase of flowers in the bedroom, he had found it on her bedside table, the purple flowers looked out of place in the beige room, but he had to admit that they did brighten up the place somewhat.

When they were together at night, Forrest’s thoughts weren’t focused on the pretty flowers, or his folded clothes, all his attention went to Martha, who led in his arms and she would kiss him until she couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. Forrest would watch as her eyelids would start fluttering, and her lips became slack in their movements. Forrest let Martha remain close to his body, no matter how clammy the night air was, the sheens of sweat that covered their bodies wasn’t enough to make them pull away. In the mornings, they’d wake up still in each other’s’ arms, skin damp from sweat, but they didn’t care. They finally had their privacy; their intimacy was only second nature in that instance.

* * *

 

It was an August day, a stifling, roasting August day, and Martha was in the Station alone, as Maggie had her allotted day off and it wasn’t that busy for a weekday. Since it was quiet, Martha flicked through a magazine, leaning on the counter and blowing away at the strand of hair that kept falling in her face. Forrest was in the study, working on the books like usual, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The only part of the day that was different was that Martha hadn’t read to Cricket at lunchtime, he had been out working on one of the large stills, the newly built one hidden in the Forrest. This gave Forrest a chance to eat lunch with Martha, as it happened so rarely. They ate cold cut sandwiches, neither of them had wanted anything warm, and they spent a moment in the empty Station to themselves, Martha stole enough kisses to warrant a slap on the behind. Forrest was never usually in a playful mood, but Martha had to ability to bring it out of him.

Time had passed further still, and with very few customers, Martha was beside herself with boredom. Her interests peaked when Forrest came out of his study, empty mug in hand, and placed it on the counter.

‘Quiet day.’ Martha commented. She had flicked her magazine closed as Forrest approached her, and took the mug from him as he had put it down.

‘Mmhm.’ Forrest’s reply was normal for Forrest, Martha didn’t expect anything less from him. She kept an eye on his expression, it seemed as if he was listening out for something, his gaze went to the large window.

Martha placed the mug, now filled with coffee, on the counter slowly, watching Forrest’s every move. There was a sound of a car pulling up, and Forrest strode over to the mesh door, and then swung it open.

Forrest took steps backwards through the door as Howard stormed in, with wide eyes and a sheen of sweat of his face.

‘Shit, Forrest, it’s a fuckin’ mess!’ He shouted, his arms waved madly in expression. The only customer in the room turned his head to them, seemingly interested in the sudden outburst of Howard. Forrest took one look at the old man, then gestured for him to get out. The man didn’t need telling twice, although he lingered on the porch for a minute.

‘The ATU and Rakes, they blew up the still in the woods.’

Forrest stared up at Howard, his fists were clenching by his sides. Martha was by the counter listening in, shocked at what Howard was saying. Her magazine had gone untouched, her mouth hung open as she watched the Howard run his hands through his hair.

‘It’s all gone, Forrest.’

‘Mmhm.’ That was all Forrest could muster, his throat was dry and he tried to think through things rationally.

‘Jack could’ve killed Rakes. He was with the Preacher’s daughter.’ That comment blew rationality out of Forrest’s mind. Howard knew that the cogs were turning in his mind, and he left promptly because of it. Jack, who had been in the car with Howard, got out and made his way shyly up to the porch. He knew that Forrest was inside, and the look the Howard had given him as he dashed out was enough to churn his stomach to pulp.

Forrest moved over to the counter, he gave a look to Martha, who was waiting with baited breathed. He thought about telling her to go away, to go to her room so she didn’t see his reaction, but the mesh door opened soon enough, and Forrest turned to face it slowly.

The gaze that Forrest bore into Jack was enough to make his body quake, he’d pissed Forrest off badly, and he knew he was in for it.

‘Forrest, I never meant to …’

‘Go on, you never meant what?’ Forrest cut through Jack’s pitiful excuse. ‘To walk around like you own the place? Or like you’re … you’re public enemy number one now?’

‘Forrest, I was just tryin’ to make sure -’

Jack’s words were cut short again, but from a harsh slap from Forrest. It was a sudden move, Martha jumped back and watched them both with wide eyes, shocked that Forrest would have the nerve to strike his brother.

‘Letting you in was a mistake.’ Forrest said, pointing his finger.

‘I’m sorry.’ Jack pleaded.

‘Mmhm?’

‘I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry they damn blew up your stills. I’m sorry they got the car. I’m sorry they took your money.’

‘My money? This ain’t about the goddamn money.’ Forrest brought himself closer, making Jack turn his head. ‘This is about a goddamn principle.’

‘Might be he’d had enough, Forrest.’ Howard had come back in, opening the mesh door in a hurry.

‘Yeah, as for you, you dumb son of a bitch …’

‘I just heard … they got Cricket.’

That made Forrest stop, his arm was raised, finger pointed at Howard, but he was silent. Jack looked up, a bewildered look on his face.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He got shot, he’s in the hospital. Christ, the bullet went in his back.’

Martha watched the scene unfold before her eyes. Jack rubbed the back of his head, processing the information. He walked over to one of the tables, both hands went to the back of his head, it was like he didn’t know what to do with his body. He breathed out, it could be heard in the quiet of the Station, and he sat on one of the chairs, tears had already begun falling.

‘That boy never hurt a … fly.’

Forrest and Howard were still silent, watching Jack fall to pieces.

‘He was a good boy.’ Jack whimpered, back hunched over and head lowered. He was sobbing loudly, breathing in sharply then crying out.

‘Them bastards!’

Martha stayed behind the counter, and felt a tear fall down her cheek. Forrest had left Jack alone after that. With Howard behind the counter, they only needed to take one look at each other, and whatever thoughts they had, it confirmed something. Forrest gave a small nod, and he caught eyes with Martha.

‘Poor kid.’ She whispered to him, and ended up having to excuse herself from the room, the sounds of Jack crying were enough to make her choke.

It was a horrible thought, to know that Cricket had been so vulnerable. There was the issue with his leg, and that made him an easy target. Martha didn’t know much about bullet wounds, but at least understood that the spine was very sensitive, she didn’t know if Cricket would be able to have the use of his legs, let alone have trouble with just one of them. The nod that Forrest gave to Howard, it had to have meant something, Martha hoped that it meant the mess would be over, that none of them would ever get into a situation like that.


	23. Final Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Lawrence is starting her new life in Franklin County, having to leave Washington in grief. Hopefully, she can put painful memories aside and hope for what the future may bring.

* * *

 

The bad mood that Forrest had during the day almost simmered down by the time he went to bed. He and Martha walked up the stairs together, they were the only ones in the Station by that point. Howard had gone out with Danny, knowing better than to hang around when Forrest was still pissed, and Jack was seeing Cricket. Jack didn’t even know what the outcome of Cricket’s situation was, and he promised to tell them when he saw them the next morning. Forrest just gave Jack a nod in acknowledgement, and let him go, rather than extending his thoughts on what had occurred that day.

Forrest stripped down from his clothes, as did Martha, and she didn’t know how to treat him since he’d remained quiet even when it was just the two of them. After hearing about Cricket, Forrest had kept his mouth shut, knowing that Jack was extremely upset over it, and he knew better than to run his mouth over something that was breaking Jack’s heart. Martha had done her best to comfort Jack, putting an arm over his shoulder as he wept at the table, and trying to get him to eat at dinnertime, but soon that sadness turned to anger, and he went as quiet as Forrest.

When Forrest led in bed that night, he was tense. The day’s events went through his mind like a carousel, there wasn’t one aspect of it that he hadn’t thought about at least three times already. Martha was wrapped in his arms like usual, that was a welcome but unsuccessful distraction, and she could feel that he was rigid. A hand was on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath it, but that seemed to be the only part of Forrest that was moving.

‘Forrest, what’s wrong?’ Martha whispered. She felt Forrest sigh, his broad chest expanded and sunk, and he brought his other hand to his forehead, rubbing it in frustration.

‘That damn boy.’ He finally said.

‘Cricket?’

‘Jack.’ Forrest croaked. ‘He is a boy, that’s the point.’

Martha didn’t know what to say, there was a part of her that wanted to agree with what Forrest was trying to tell her, but in truth, she didn’t know enough about the business to form an opinion on it. Forrest hadn’t let her in on much with a purpose, he didn’t want Martha in a position where her knowledge could’ve been used against her.

Instead, Martha led by Forrest, her leg resting over his, hoping that her nearness would bring him comfort, since that was the least she could’ve done.

‘And Cricket. Christ, what a mess.’

‘It’s horrible, Forrest.’

‘We’ll make sure the boy’s all sorted when he gets out.’

‘How?’

Forrest took a moment to think about it, then sighed again. He flicked his gaze down quickly, first to Martha’s face, he saw her staring at the wall, waiting silently for an answer. He then looked to her hand, resting on his chest, she was stroking her fingers lightly against his skin, a shudder almost ran through his body because of it. The action was like a second nature to Martha, she probably didn’t know she was doing it.

‘I haven’t thought about that part, yet.’

It was one of the most honest answers Forrest had given Martha, and she always thought that he was a man with an answer to everything. They stayed close that night, as they had the previous nights, Martha was always in Forrest’s strong arms, keeping her close to his body.

* * *

 

Martha couldn’t stomach hospitals, not since she had experienced them too many times in the past year alone. First with Forrest, then herself, and then her Poppa, and now it was Cricket. The nurse seemed to recognise her, Martha was sure that it wasn’t normal for someone to become a familiar face at a hospital, but the nurse took her straight to Cricket’s room, knowing exactly why she was there.

The bullet that entered Cricket’s lower back three days prior had been removed, and the doctor had made sure to mention that it was a close call. Another inch to the left, and Cricket would’ve lost the use of his legs. A bullet had entered his shoulder as well, but it didn’t cause near as much damage as the other one. When they were at the still, Jack had ordered him and Bertha to run when the ATU ambushed the building, but Cricket was hit in the crossfire. Bertha near enough dragged Cricket to the hospital, Cricket had been fading fast, but they got there just in time.

Jack was the first one to visit Cricket, and made a point of going there every day, even when he had just got out of surgery, the day it happened. The attack meant a great deal to him, to have his friend as the victim instead of him made him feel sick in the stomach, it wasn’t right that Cricket was the one who was shot.

Since Cricket wasn’t at the Station during lunchtimes to be read to, Martha suggested to Jack that she should go to him at the hospital to read. Jack thought it was a great idea, saying that Cricket had been asking after her anyway, and that comment tugged at Martha’s heart. She wanted to go and be a friend to him, and she had to put the idea of how much she hated hospitals out of her mind, for Cricket’s sake.

Cricket was lying on his back when Martha walked into the room. The smile that spread on his lips made the journey worthwhile.

‘Miss Martha?’ He beamed at her. He then took to the effort of pushing himself up with his forearms, out of sudden delight.

‘Don’t move, Cricket.’ Martha stepped forward and put a hand on his arm, gently pushing him back down. She didn’t want to over excite him and cause more damage to his body.

‘Jack said that you’d come. What took you so long?’

The question wasn’t meant to be asked in a hurtful manner, but Martha felt guilty about not turning up on the previous days.

‘I was waiting for something to arrive in the mail.’

That caught Cricket’s attention, and he watched Martha with eager eyes as she brought a chair to the side of his bed, and placed her purse on her lap.

‘Whatchu got?’ Cricket asked.

‘Something new.’ Martha teased. She gave a smirk to Cricket as she opened her purse, and pulled out a book, a fresh, brand new copy.

‘I bought it new, ordered it through the post office, so we could read it together while you’re recovering.’

‘What is it?’

‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.’

‘Really? Oh, gee, Miss Martha.’ Cricket seemed embarrassed at the sight of it, his cheeks blushed pink, and his eyelashes fluttered bashfully.

‘We’ve had old books, with pages falling out before. You deserve a new book, I haven’t even opened it yet.’

Time went by without Cricket or Martha paying attention to it, neither of them cared that it was getting late. Martha felt good, the shame she had felt beforehand had gone, the joy that Cricket was experiencing was enough for it to latch onto her. They ended up getting to the end of chapter six, Cricket was still listening so attentively to Martha, hanging onto her every word. However, they didn’t reach chapter seven, as a loud commotion caught their attention, and Martha put the book down.

‘What do you think that’s about?’ Cricket asked, straining his neck, trying to see out of the open door. Martha turned around in her seat, and saw nurses running gurneys along the corridor, and then Howard.

Martha jumped at the sight of him, put the book on the bedside table and went to the door. There were two hospital beds at the far end of the corridor, being taken into operating rooms, and Howard was there, hat in his hands and pacing with long strides. He seemed lost, like he was a spare part.

‘Howard?’ Martha called out.

‘Oh Christ, Martha.’ Howard was glad to see a familiar face. His long legs came up to the threshold of Cricket’s room, his hand ran through his hair in despair.

‘It’s all over, Rakes, the ATU.’ It felt like a weight off of his shoulders to say those words, but there was worse to mention.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, but Jack, and Forrest …’ Howard trailed off, looking back up the corridor, to where the gurneys had been pushed. It clicked in Martha’s mind, she realised who the people on the beds were.

‘Forrest …?’

Not again, she thought, goddamn it, not again. A fear passed through Martha, she couldn’t believe she was in the situation for the second time. Forrest had got himself hurt, just like before, and Martha couldn’t take it. Her vision glazed over for a moment, if Howard was still talking to her, she wouldn’t have known. She felt uneasy on her feet, but the doorframe was by her side, and she bumped her shoulder into it lightly, trying to keep her balance.

‘Martha? Martha?’ Howard’s voice cut through Martha’s fuzzy mind, he had brought his head down to her level, his blue eyes wide, trying to get her attention. Martha looked as if she was staring into space, Howard panicked for a moment.

‘I … uh -’ Martha blinked rapidly, focusing her eyes onto Howard. She stepped backward, into Cricket’s room, Howard was blocking the doorway, so she couldn’t sprint to the exit just yet. Dread rushed through her body, the thought of Forrest dying, it was too much. She knocked against the chair by the bed, and went for her purse.

‘Miss Martha? Are you alright?’ It was Cricket who spoke, but Martha didn’t pay attention, she couldn’t, her senses were telling her to get out. Once she had her purse, clutched in her shaking hands, she paced out of the room, Howard had moved out of the way just in time.

Whether Howard was shouting after her, Martha didn’t know, nor did she care. Her blood was pumping through her veins ten-fold, she could hear it as she stormed out of the hospital. Her hands shook as she tried to put the keys in the trucks ignition, and she sighed to steady herself. She had to clear her mind, just for the journey home.

Martha couldn’t wait, however, her bottom lip trembled violently, and sobs fell from her mouth, she had to use the back of her hand to wipe away her tears, to clear her vision of the road. If Forrest died, Martha wouldn’t know what to do. She couldn’t deal with another death; her mind and body couldn’t take it.

The truck tires screeched to a halt on the gravel, Blackwater Station was deathly quiet, no cars were there. The shrill of the cicadas sounded through the air, filling the gaps of missing human voices. Martha took a moment in the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, tears were beginning to cease, but her throat felt intensely dry. Once Martha had taken deep breaths, each one slower than the last, she managed to make it out of the car. As she walked to the porch, and saw Forrest’s chair, Martha wanted desperately to close her eyes, then when she opened them, Forrest would be there, a cigar between his lips and that damn coffee mug in his hand. Another tear slipped from her eye, rolling down her face, of course he wasn’t going to be there.

The front mesh door was open, Martha thought it was strange for the Station to be left unlocked. It occurred to her that she had no clue of how Forrest ended up on that gurney, her mind had blanked straight away, and common sense faltered after that. He could’ve been in there for anything, his throat could’ve been slit again, his head hanging by a thread, Martha felt stupid for not asking. She had left herself in the dark, but then Martha didn’t know if she wanted to go back and acknowledge that it happened.

Martha went to the sink in the corner of the kitchen, filled a cup to the brim, and gulped it down. Her throat seized in pain for a moment, but she swallowed through it, and cleared her throat loudly. From the sink, Martha went across the floor, to the door open to Forrest’s study. His books were tided away, any money that he had been counting had been tucked away, his desk was abnormally tidy. It made Martha think that Forrest had expected something, he expected to not come back to the Station from wherever he was.

Forrest’s chair was tucked in neatly, and it struck to Martha that she had never sat on Forrest’s chair before, she had always been on the wooden chair to the side of the desk. She pulled the chair out, the legs scraped on the floorboards, and she sat herself down. With her arms resting on the desktop, Martha put her head down to find herself a moment of peace.

Thoughts raced through Martha’s mind, they were all about Forrest. He couldn’t die, that wasn’t an option, that stupid legend about the Bondurant’s had better be true, Martha thought. She recalled how Jack had acted when he thought Forrest had walked to the hospital with a slit throat. If Forrest could survive that, he had to survive whatever tragedy had struck him the second time. Luck had to strike again, it couldn’t for her father, nor her Poppa, it at least had to for Forrest.

Martha couldn’t help but think about the possibility, the tiniest part of her brain that festered in doubt. Forrest was the one she loved, if he wasn’t around anymore, the only choice would’ve been to move on, perhaps down to Charlotte, or to Atlanta, which was even further. People had already started heading west due to the devastation of the Wall Street Crash, Martha had her money from the house and the farm, she could’ve taken one suitcase and her life savings and left for California, where there were hot, sandy beaches and some sense of hope. But then she’d have to leave the Station, it would’ve been the last memory of Forrest, and then there was Howard, and Jack, and Cricket.

A groan escaped Martha’s mouth, she didn’t like thinking of the horrible scenarios of being alone once again. She remained with her head on her arms for a while longer, her tears had dried up, and she just felt tired, exhausted from all the hellish situation she had found herself in. The sound of a car pulling up outside made her eyes snap open, she had no idea who it could’ve been.

Martha’s head felt heavy as she lifted it, she rubbed her eyes to wake herself up, it was possible that she had snoozed a little, but Martha didn’t know what was going on. When the door opened, Martha looked through the cubby hole to see Howard making his way over to the counter. At the sight of a familiar face, she got up and went out onto the floor.

‘They’re alright, Martha, both of them.’

He saw what a state Martha was in, her face was bright red, and she was squinting in the exposure to light.

‘Gotta love the Bondurant legend.’ Howard still tried to make jokes, even after the ordeal, he’d been through.

‘You don’t actually believe that, do you?’ Martha asked. Howard, who was sat at one of the counter stools, gave in to Martha’s pitiful expression. He shook his head at her, no longer feeling in a playful mood.

‘Howard …?’ Martha trailed off. It caught his attention, he saw her edging closer and closer, it was obvious what she wanted.

‘Martha, I got blood over me.’ He said softly. He wanted to comfort her, but worried that the state of him was going to put her off. Martha didn’t care, and she fell into Howard’s arms. He held her close, it had been a long time since he had held someone so sincerely. It was out of desperation, and the need to not feel alone, Martha didn’t care that Howard had blood over him.

‘Now, don’t ‘chu go cryin’ on me.’ Howard mumbled, looking down to Martha. Her eyes were watering, but it wasn’t from the thought of Forrest, it was from the exhaustion, no other reaction could occur other than crying.

Martha sniffed, and brought her sleeve over her hand to wipe at her eyes.

‘Sorry.’

‘You don’t need to be sorry, Martha. Ain’t your fault. And Forrest will be fine, I saw him come out of surgery.’

‘What happened?’ Martha took to a counter stool, one next to Howard’s. She watched him scratch at the back of his neck, he was debating on how to tell Martha, in a way that wouldn’t upset her further.

‘Well, Jack got pissed because the Sheriff came by, telling Jack that got the bridge closed, and he went off the handle. Me and Forrest followed him out, Jimmy and his boys came by, and Forrest got shot. Was it, three times, four times …?’ Howard trailed off, trying to remember the detail, which shocked Martha immediately.

‘Four times?’ She whispered, a horrified look falling over her face.

‘It’s alright, though, he’s gunna see it through.’ Howard reassured.

Martha sighed, and put her head in her hands. ‘God, Howard, it’s such a mess.’

‘Tell me ‘bout it.’

They shared a quick moment of silence, Martha tried to smooth the creases in her forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

‘Listen, Martha,’ Howard started. Martha looked up to Howard, he seemed to have something on his mind.

‘After all this, I gotta get out.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Out of here, Franklin. I ain’t told anyone yet, I’ll wait till Forrest and Jack are out, but it’s my time to move on.’

Martha always thought that Howard would stay near Forrest. He had all the comforts he needed at the Station, all the shine he could drink, but it was clear that the day had affected him seriously, and it wasn’t like Howard to be so serious.

‘What would you do?’

‘Shit, I dunno, haven’t thought that far ahead. But I will go, for some time. You won’t miss me too much, will you?’ Howard was back being his old self, trying to make Martha smile. She did, and told him that she would’ve missed him dearly, but if thought it was right, he had to follow his mind.

Going to bed that night wasn’t a pleasant experience. Forrest’s mattress felt empty, and Martha felt incredibly lonely because of it. She let herself weep some more, as she held Forrest’s pillow to her body, not only was it from tiredness and shock still felt from the afternoon, but relief. Howard had said that Forrest pulled through, he had managed to survive against the odds, like he had done before. Martha made herself promise that when she saw him, she would make him promise that he would never get himself into a such a situation again.

* * *

 

Martha rose at seven thirty, like she did so every day. Making the effort to keep to her normal schedule was important, it would’ve kept her mind clear, and had her focused on the day ahead. The only difference was that when she woke, Forrest’s warm body wasn’t next to hers, he wasn’t there to be the first one to say good morning, and give her a morning kiss. She washed herself, and put on a clean dress, everything she did was methodical. Until, however, she tried to stomach breakfast. Howard was fine with eggs and pancakes, but Martha could only manage a few bites of toast, no even with any blackberry jam on top, and that was it.

Howard drove them both to the hospital, he was going there to see how Jack was recovering. Neither of them spoke, Martha was too nervous, and Howard didn’t know how to handle the awkward vibe between them. He wanted to offer some words of encouragement, the pained look on Martha’s face bothered him, but there was nothing he could think of, he wasn’t the best as providing comforting words.

The nurse stood up as they came in, as if she was expecting them. As Martha followed the nurse, she recounted the many times she had been in the hospital corridor. There was the first time, when she had heaved Forrest’s body into the building, he had used her jacket to cover his throat. Martha suddenly realised that she had never gotten the jacket back, but it had been spoiled with Forrest’s blood, so she hadn’t wanted it anyway. Then she had been dropped off by Jack, who believed that Forrest had walked to the hospital on his own, how that rumour came to fruition, Martha still had no idea, and she wondered if Jack still thought that. She doubted that Forrest had told anyone the truth, he wouldn’t admit it to himself, but Martha guessed that Forrest liked the story of being strong enough to carry out such an act.

Then there was her time in the hospital, Martha still couldn’t outstretch her arm properly because of the dislocation. She had Jack with her at that point, though she would’ve rather it had been Forrest, but he was busy, doing something Martha never wanted to know the details of.

And then her Poppa, her poor Poppa. Martha didn’t want to spend time thinking about that occasion, that was still raw in her mind, and it hurt.

Cricket was still recovering from his ordeal, being shot in the back wasn’t an easy thing to recover from. He was such a sweet boy, he was the last person to have to be subjected to such pain, he was too gentle, too pure to be a victim.

Martha had Howard next to her, the nurse was still in front. They were to see Jack, and Forrest for the second time. She took a moment to look up at Howard, he had a calm expression on his face, he knew that his brothers were alive, and were going to recover, he had no immediate worries, except, perhaps, how to tell them that he wanted to move away. Howard had been the exceptional Bondurant, the only one she knew that hadn’t been in the damned hospital. Perhaps, Martha thought, he didn’t get himself into stupid situations, and that he finally had the right mind in getting out of Franklin all together.

The nurse stopped at Forrest’s door, and Martha felt the familiar churn in her stomach. He was there, behind the door, she knew he was awaiting her arrival. Martha smoothed down her dress, tucked her hair behind her ears, and was left by herself to enter.

Forrest lay on his back, his body was still, but he hadn’t needed to move, his eyes did all the work. He could tell that Martha was nervous, she stepped quietly to the far side of the room. Instead of taking the chair, she went ahead and sat on the bed, Forrest moved his head slightly to the right to gaze at her.

They still hadn’t said a word to each other as Forrest brought his hand up, the backs of his fingers stroking Martha’s cheek, and she closed her eyes in contentment.

‘How is it you always wear a pretty dress, every day without fail?’ Forrest’s drawl was heaven to Martha’s ears, his voice softened her tense expression, and she placed a hand on his arm.

‘Hmm.’ Martha was neither agreeing or disagreeing, but it wasn’t like Forrest to give such compliments, she shifted her head to place light kisses on his hand.

‘That was the one you wore when we first met.’

The comment pulled Martha from her attentions to Forrest’s hand, she stared, slightly wide eyed at Forrest, he could tell that she was impressed.

‘Forrest …’ Martha tried to talk, but was too overwhelmed, her feelings caught in her throat, and her face crumpled.

‘Don’t cry now, there’s no reason to cry.’ Forrest comforted, holding Martha’s face in his hand, that was all the relief he could’ve given her in that moment.

‘I hate being like this Forrest.’ She wept, trying to calm herself. Forrest was alive, that was all she needed, crying was just a secondary reaction to how dazed she felt.

‘I know. It’ll take me longer to get out of here than last time.’

‘Sleeping isn’t the same when you’re not there with me.’

This made Forrest smile, just a faint smile, one that affected his eyes, and he looked so peaceful. Martha reached down, careful not to put any weight onto his chest, and kiss Forrest softly, careful not to over excite him in his fragile state. The sweet moment didn’t last long, as a shadow passed over Forrest’s face, the faint smile had disappeared, and his eyes hardened.

‘Martha, my thoughts were of you.’ He choked slightly, shifting his body, gesturing to her his injuries. Martha could only listen to Forrest, hanging onto his every word, his hand still in hers.

‘There was no one else to think of, you, my darlin’, you would’ve been my last thought.’

Martha had not known Forrest to share so much, his intimate thoughts were kept to himself. To hear his thoughts, to witness him so open to her, Martha’s heart clenched. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just one of pure relief and love.

‘It would’ve been my wish to see you in that moment, what I thought would’ve been my final wish.’

‘Forrest …’

Forrest wasn’t going to let Martha palm off his confessions, it was his time to be at one with how he felt, and he knew that Martha was ready to accept that.

‘I love you, Martha.’

‘I love you too, Forrest.’

Martha’s smile spread wide on her lips, and she bent down to connect their lips once more. She remained close, neither of them could pull away for too long. With Martha so close to him, Forrest felt encouraged.

‘Marry me.’

It was not a question, nor was it a request or an order, it was a declaration. A statement of Forrest’s truest and purest feelings for Martha. He loved her, and Martha replicated those sentiments ten-fold.

‘Yes, for Christ’s sake, yes.’ Martha smiled, and laughter erupted from her lips, Forrest felt the vibrations of happiness as she moved her lips back to his, as if to seal the deal.

* * *

 

It took two weeks for Forrest to recover from his horrific injuries, and he ended up having to use a cane to walk, even though it bothered him at first. He thought it made him seem like an old man, and he got angry, because he wasn’t an old man, and Martha had a hard time in hiding her amusement at his anger. She thought that Forrest would end up hitting her with it when she stifled giggles, but all he could give her was a stern look.

During the time of Forrest’s recovery, Martha spent every moment planning the wedding. They had come to the conclusion that they didn’t want a large ceremony, there was no reason to make an extravagant declaration about it, and the only people they invited were Forrest’s brothers and Maggie. Martha didn’t think that anyone needed to walk her down the aisle, and at first, she thought that there was no one who could. However, when Cricket felt better, and could move without hurting himself too much, Martha asked him to give her away. She would always remember how Cricket went wide-eyed with shock, and he stumbled over his words as he tried to find a reason why he wasn’t good enough to do that task. Martha didn’t let him put himself down. When they walked down the small aisle together, Cricket had stars in his eyes, his smile spread across his face and he felt the proudest he had ever been.

After Howard left Franklin County, and Jack moved on with Bertha, it left just Forrest and Martha at the Station. Forrest no longer made and sold shine, the business was behind him for a good reason, so they ran the Station as a restaurant. The peace that they had found together suited them, they finally discovered their happiness, and neither of them were going to let anyone tarnish that. They’d sit on the porch together at the end of every night, hand in hand, and they knew that it was enough for them, and they were enough for each other.


End file.
